


Risky Business

by Fruipit



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Angst, CEO!Elsa, F/F, Modern office AU, Romance, So don't worry, disabled!Anna, is endgame elsanna though, it is elsanna endgame, the anna/hans is not endgame, wow there's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 29,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5777263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruipit/pseuds/Fruipit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're in a good place now. You have a good job, surrounded by good people. Somehow, you're working under a goddamn CEO. Life seems pretty much perfect...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> short drabble series. elsanna endgame. multiple chapters.

There are two elevators, six hundred offices, and fifteen hundred stairs. There's a waterfall _in the foyer_ , and you realise you've never been in such a luxurious building before.

When you signed up to the Disability Employment Services, you didn't expect anything like this. You expected maybe a temp position, if that. Instead, you've got a- well, you don't quite know what you're going to be doing. But if you get to work here everyday – on decent pay, no less! – you don't honestly care.

There's a nice guy behind the counter who gives you your visitor badge. You can see his eyes fall to your legs, to your chair-on-wheels, but you ignore the look. You tell yourself he's appreciating your new shirt (or your rack). He directs you to a floor and an office, and you wheel yourself into the elevator with the other suits.

Most of them ignore you, but there's one kid, probably no older than yourself, who sends you a smile. When everyone else gets off at floor-whatever, he stays, riding with you to the very top. He lets you out first, and he's halfway down a hallway before you realise that you have no idea how to get to where you need to be.

"Um, excuse me?"

Your voice rings out, loud and soft at the same time, and the man turns around.

"I'm um, I'm a little lost," you say, scratching the back of your head. "I mean, I know I'm supposed to be on this floor, but the offices..."

He nods in understanding. "New?" he asks, and you give a self-deprecating smile. "What room are you looking for?" 

You fish around your bag for your phone, pulling up the email. "Miss... Arendelle's," you say. Somehow, it seems like his smile widens further.

"This way."


	2. Chapter 2

He leads you down a different hall, chatting away. You find out his name is Olaf, and he’s a HR manager. He laughs when you ask (completely surprised) how old he is.

“Elsa- Miss Arendelle,” he corrects, “Rewards good people. I’m good _with_  people, so she put me on a fast-track.”

He doesn’t actually answer the age question, but you don’t mind. He doesn’t walk behind you, so you consider that even.

You stop outside a door, with a purple name-plaque on it. The ‘E’ at the beginning of 'Elsa’ ends in a curlicue, and you wonder what sort of woman this is.

However, you’re distracted by the letters that come after her name.

~ _Elsa Arendelle, CEO~_

You’re working for the _C. E. O._

How did you score this gig?

Olaf knocks on the door, and turns the knob, looking at you. “Just go right on in,” he says. At your look of alarm, he shrugs. “Human resources. Better attitude towards managerial staff if people feel there’s an open-door policy. So, that’s what we have. Just knock, and enter.” He sends you a smile, before taking his hand off the doorknob and waving.

“See you later!”

He’s out of sight before you realise that you didn’t even get a chance to thank him. You make a mental note to find him again and give him a box of chocolates for being so accommodating. It isn’t every day that you meet people who are this nice.

But you have things to do, like work, so you push the door open further and wheel yourself in.

The room is all windows and modern art. Light slants through the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass, giving an impressive view of the city. It smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and the whole room just  _feels_  warm.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear the door open again. It isn’t until you turn around that you notice someone else has entered. They’re looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen before, but it doesn’t feel good.

“Oh, um, sorry. I should- Olaf, a guy, he um, let me in. I’ll just- sorry-”

You begin moving towards the door, but the woman is still standing there. Her eyes flicker from your defunct legs to your chair, and your heart sinks. They thought they were getting someone able-bodied .Not a… not a cripple.

The woman clears her throat and puts on a smile. It seems forced, even as she rushes to apologise. “No, no, I’m sorry, I just- Anna, right? Anna Ackerman? I’m sorry, I just expected you to arrive a little later. The email said 10, didn’t it?”

It probably did, but in your haste not to be late, you were actually early. A glance at your phone told you it was only nine fifty-three; when you look back at the woman, her smile isn’t nearly as forced. It brings a light to her eyes, and now, she actually looks somewhat excited. She holds her hand out, and you take it tentatively.

“Elsa Arendelle,” she says. “And you _must_  be Anna. Obviously.” You give a small nod, and she continues. “It’s absolutely wonderful to have you working with us. Please.” She indicates her desk, and you move towards it.

“I guess they didn’t tell you about the chair,” you say, laughing deprecatingly. Elsa takes a seat on the other side and frowns.

“Of course they did,” she says. “We had to make sure that all areas you would need would be accessible. I have, of course, every other area being refitted, but they won’t be complete for a few weeks.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just sit in silence, waiting for Elsa to speak again.

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Anna,” she says after a few moments, smiling softly. You think about the warm welcome by Olaf, and Elsa’s own self-correction, and you think that you’re a bit excited, too.


	3. Chapter 3

The days aren’t easy by any stretch of the word, but you still appreciate the chance to  _do_  something. You go to work every day and take the elevator up to the top floor. You mostly just do filing, but Elsa’s said that it’s just to get you used to the sort of work that the business does.

You aren’t really sure what you’re supposed to be learning, though. Honestly, a teenager could do what you’re doing, and get paid less. You mention it, off-hand to Elsa, and she just shrugs.

That’s another thing. Elsa doesn’t expect anyone to call her ’m'am’ or ‘Miss Arendelle’. Everyone calls everyone else by their first name, and it’s kinda awesome. This is the first place you’ve ever worked where there’s that sort of camaraderie. It also means that no one is ever actually mean to you because it’s too easy to report bullying. Out of all the places to say they have a 'no tolerance’ policy, this is the only workplace that actually seems like it’ll uphold that mantra.

Of course, it isn’t without a few problems. People grumble at you because you take up more room in the elevator, and, often, you’re a little late because you have to wait for an empty carriage. You don’t mind, but each time you say hi to Elsa a few minutes after your shift starts, she purses her lips.

Two weeks into your job, and there’s a sign put up in the elevator telling people that the elderly, pregnant, and most importantly, _disabled_  people have the right to go first. You aren’t late again.

Olaf is an absolute sweetheart, too. He gets you a hot chocolate every morning, and always sits with you at lunch. It isn’t really that easy making friends, but you’re used to that. You have all the friends you need, anyway (though when Olaf forcefully adds you to Facebook, you admit that it can never hurt to have a few more).


	4. Chapter 4

The only thing that really frustrates you is how it all seems so _easy_. You’re getting paid more than you ever thought you would (and almost all of it is going to savings because a job this good _can’t_ last too long), for doing minimal work.

Your boss seems to be somewhat all over the place, too – but not in any kind of business sense. There’s a feeling of want that emanates from her (but nothing so lewd, ew). She seems to want to stop and talk, seems to want to approach you. But she doesn’t. That’s okay, you can deal with that. It’s more in the way that she actually seems to take great strides to avoid you. She’ll stop and stare when you’re in the cafeteria eating lunch, and when you wave at her (wave her over), she’ll catch herself and move on.

That isn’t necessarily a problem. But it makes you wonder what you’ve done to make her do such a thing. Was she just lying when she said that she was expecting someone in a chair?

Olaf encourages you to go and talk to her, but you don’t want to rock the boat. You’re fine. Everything is fine; it’s not like people haven’t avoided you before. You were so popular in middle school, and even early high school. Then the accident happened and no one wanted to associate with you, but you got over that. You’ll get over this, too.

What little interactions you have with her somehow, for some reason, always become tense. She doesn’t seem to like it when you act cavalier,and she always seems to take back her words if she thinks they’re going to be slightly offensive. She told you that you couldn’t go to a particular seminar (paid, of course) because it was a team-building _thing_  out in the middle of nowhere. Then she apologised for ten minutes, saying she didn’t mean to be so rude. You couldn’t help laughing because that isn’t rude! It’s just a matter of fact.

But when she isn’t being embarrassed and awkward, and if she stopped being so damn standoffish, you think that you might be able to have enough conversations to become friends. You hear her chatting to Olaf when you make your rounds. It’s almost always business – she doesn’t seem to share much, even though Olaf has a knack for turning everything into a personal conversation. Not necessarily _deep_ , but he gets her to chat about things not-work-related.

Sometimes you hear her laugh, and it’s a strange, but not unwelcome, sound. Despite Olaf’s assurances that you’re welcome in at any time, there’s still a wall between you and every other person in the building. Invisible, but you still feel it.

So, you come to work and do your job and forget that it usually means ‘make friends’.


	5. Chapter 5

So, the days and weeks and months pass. You actually manage to build a family, of sorts, here. Kristoff, your foster brother, comes in for your birthday and in the span of ten minutes develops a weird brotherly relationship with Olaf (despite their complete opposite attitudes). You aren’t one to let your personal and professional life mix, but then Kristoff asked if he wanted to come out for lunch to celebrate your birthday, and you actually feel… sort of excited. Olaf agrees in a heartbeat, just as Elsa turns the corner.

Kristoff is so wonderful he isn’t even struck dumb at her awesome appearance (hair in a French braid, pulled back with some strange kind of – _expensive_  – snowflake ornaments, braided in). She’s wearing a tight pencil skirt and a blouse, and you’re actually at the perfect hight to stare unhindered at her ass.

You don’t, of course, because that’s just weird.

Even so, you’re sort of lucky that they’re too busy talking amongst themselves to notice your lack of attention.

“… couldn’t possibly,” Elsa’s saying, and you snap to attention.

“Hmm?”

Kristoff rolls his eyes, though shoots you a smile. “Just wondering if Miss Arendelle wanted to join us,” he says, and your eyes light up.

“Hey, yeah!” you say, grinning. “How about it, Elsa? C'mon, my birthday lunch. Kristoff’s treating!”

He lets out a choke, but you send him a look to let him know you’re kidding. You have a much better job, and truthfully, it’d be nice to be able to treat _him_  for once, instead of the other way around.

But Elsa’s shaking her head. “I don’t wanna intrude-”

“You aren’t!” you insist. And she really isn’t. You want to get to know her – you’ve barely spoken at all, despite working directly under her, on the same floor of the same building. “It’ll be fun!”

“Anna, I don’t-”

“Please-”

“No! _Drop it_ , Anna!”

Silence falls between you, and you watch she she looks away. She says your name as a goodbye, and leaves you with your friends. You don’t even realise when Kristoff takes the handles and wheels you away. You’re too focused on your sinking heart and hurt feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz about the short chapter. very important tho

All things considered, lunch was actually a success. You do feel a little better, and you were right: it _is_  nice being able to treat Kristoff. It was actually a nice place, too, with steak knives and breadsticks as part of the appetiser. Kristoff buys you a slice of chocolate cake afterwards (ignoring your claims of ‘breaking your diet’), and you hold on tight when he leans down to give you a hug. Even with Elsa’s… attitude… it’s still been one of the best birthdays you’ve had, since the accident. The first one you haven’t felt lost and alone.

Elsa isn’t there when you return to the office, and you try not to feel angry. Olaf gives you the afternoon off, anyway, so you end up making your money doing fuck-all for the rest of the day. He even gives you a lift to the train station when it begins to rain; he would have taken you home, but it’s far too out of the way. You don’t want to inconvenience anyone.

Joan is excited to see you when you go home, and if nothing else, that makes you smile. The little cat, with its dappled hair and missing tail, mewls as your feet, and you smile. She sits on your lap as your roll to the kitchen, preparing her dinner. You aren’t that hungry, still full from lunch, so you decide to just have a shower and go to bed.

One of the benefits of living alone, you think as you heat up the water, is that you don’t have to close doors. It would be far more difficult getting from your chair to the shower if you had no room to do it.

You sit beneath the water, letting it wash over you. You don’t like staying in here too long; gives you too much time to look at your useless legs and remember. Remembering is bad, and it brings you nothing but sour thoughts and pain. And today is not a good day for this.

Just before you go to sleep, washed and dry and swaddled in a blanket and your favourite pyjamas, you turn to the picture on your bedside table.

“Night, Mom,” you whisper, pressing first your fingertips to the people in there, and then your lips. “Night, Dad. I love you…”


	7. Chapter 7

You come into work the next day puffy-eyed and absolutely exhausted. You barely got any sleep last night, and it shows. Or, it did until you go against your personal mantra and put on lip gloss and concealer and killer (well, it was supposed to be…) mascara – really, anything to attract attention away from the bags under your eyes. No one seems to notice (not that, really, you particularly want them to) until Olaf steps into the elevator.

He gives you one look, and then his mouth seems to just spew the first thought that crosses his mind. “You look like shit,” he says. Thankfully, there’s no one else in the elevator, so all you do is glare at him.

“Well, I mean, the make-up looks pretty, but… you sure you don’t need to stay home today or something?”

The last thing you need to do is stay home. You just need to get stuck into work and forget yourself for the day.

When the elevator stops on your floor, you push past Olaf, making your way to the office you’re going to be working in. He follows you, but you make sure to close your door. Sure, he could just knock and come in, but he seems to realise that you really don’t want to talk to him.

You get most of the way through the day before being interrupted again. You don’t feel quite as terrible – the monotony of filing certainly seems to have helped. It gives you the strength to actually open the door when you hear a light tapping.

Elsa’s standing outside, a fern in her hands. It’s a terribly cliché office gift, you think as she looks at you, a contrite look on her face.

“I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday,” she begins, fixing you with a strong look. “I suppose I haven’t been doing very good, making you feel welcome. I wanted to apologise, maybe take you out to lunch to make up for it?”

You sigh, and move away, turning your back. “Look, it’s not a good day today. Sorry.”

You realise that you don’t sound that penitent. Your words are actually quite sharp and curt. But, you don’t care. Elsa stands awkwardly in the doorway, still holding the potted plant. She leaves not long after your dismissal, but when you finish work for the day, you see the plant is still sitting next to the door. There’s a little note, tied to it.

 _To Anna,_  it reads. _Just thought your office could do with some colour. Feel free to decorate how you want – it’s your personal space now. From, Elsa._

The letter is written in the same curling font as her name-plaque is, but it’s obviously handwritten. You pick up the plant and put it in the corner of the room, next to the window. You only have one window – quite unlike Elsa’s office – but it gives an entirely different view of the city. Plus, you can still see out of it, being that it reaches to floor, too.

The office does look a bit sad, you think. You don’t fight back the little smile that rises to your lips. Now you have an office. It feels a lot less temporary now, this job.

Your parents would be so proud.


	8. Chapter 8

The picture of your parents is the first thing you bring with you. You get someone to help you rearrange the furniture so, instead of having the window behind you, it's to the side. You like being able to look out as you work.

You buy a cupcake for Olaf, and he just gives you a hug and tells you he's not upset. Tells you that sometimes people need days on their own that that's cool. He does remind you that Elsa seemed a bit despondent, though, and he asks how the plant is going.

You're a little proud when you show him your office. It's something new and _yours_ , and he smiles, impressed.

"You know you can paint it too, right?" he asks, looking at the dull green walls. You're actually a little grateful that he doesn't seem to realise that you _can't_ paint, literally.

Maybe you can ask Kristoff, but you feel bad calling him for such a huge favour. You're not sure how Elsa would feel about painters coming in and disrupting everyone, so you just shrug.

"I don't mind it. It's a bit dull, but green's my favourite colour anyway," you say. He gives a thoughtful nod, before glancing at his watch.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Anna, but I gotta go. Great office, by the way." With one more grin, he leaves.

You're sorting (again) when you get another visitor. This time it isn't Elsa, but someone from another part of the building. She's got a box in her hands, and asks, "Is this Annie Ackerman's office?"

"Anna," you correct, and then invite her in.

"Hi, Anna," she says, holding out a hand. "I'm Ella, part of IT. We have a computer for you – apparently you're going to be using the new TIFS, so we need to get that all online."

"TIFS?" you ask, and she lets out a little giggle. It's cute.

"Slang for This Is Fucking Shit," she laughs, though she's obviously joking. "But don't be scared, it's actually really easy to use. I'll show you."

It doesn't take long to get the whole thing set up. You don't think you've ever had a piece of technology this new – even your phone looks like it popped straight out of the early-noughties. But Ella is kind, and patient, and makes even the most complicated thing seem easy. By the end of it, she gives you her number, telling you to call if you have any questions (after you waste half an hour of her time, chatting about some random nonsense. She's easy to talk to).

But she still has to go back to work, and with a final smile, she packs up her stuff and gives you a mock-salute. You give a cough and build up your courage, and ask, "did you wanna get a coffee with me some time?"

It's a bit sudden and abrupt, but she was nice and didn't look at the chair and seems friendly. You aren't good at going out and meeting people, and it would be nice to make a few friends who might become a little more.

But she gives you a sad sort of frown, and you feel your heart sink a little.

"I'm really sorry, but I have a boyfriend," she says, and your eyes widen. Before you can argue that no, you're not hitting on her, you just really like coffee, she's smiling sadly at you and walking out the door. Your heart sinks a little because, well. You're not a lesbian – do you look like a lesbian? – and maybe she used that as an excuse to leave because it was the less confrontational option.

Still stings a bit.

You don't do any more work for the rest of the day. You just stare out the window, watching other people, with their other lives, wander past.


	9. Chapter 9

‘Using the computer’ is added to your remarkably short list of tasks. Instead of filing real papers, you get to file electronic ones. Olaf pops in every few days, and you realise that you haven’t made any friends aside from him. You had to ask him for help when you did something stupid on the computers. You couldn’t face asking Ella.

Elsa tries again a week later, this time bringing a picture of a sunflower. You wonder what her need to decorate your office is, but you brush it aside. She’s just being nice, and the picture is pretty.

This time, you agree to going out to lunch with her. She chooses a little café, out of the way but close enough that you don’t have to get a taxi. It’s quaint, offering sandwiches and burgers, and you order a thick-shake that is actually thick (so, not a milkshake in disguise).

“How are you, Anna?” she prefaces the meal with. You give a bit of a shrug, before catching yourself. She’s your boss, and she asked a question.

“Good,” you find yourself saying. You realise that this is the first time you’ve ever really had a chance to sit down and talk to Elsa. It’s the first time you’ve ever really had a chance to just look at her, too.

“Thank you, by the way, for the office. It’s lovely.” You manage a smile, and watch as Elsa’s face lifts.

“It was no problem,” she says. “You’re one of us – you deserve your own office. Even the janitors have their own, and they spend more time in everyone else’s. It’s important to have your own space, I think.”

You nod. The food comes out without you sharing another word, and neither of you speak again until you’re finished.

The silence isn’t awkward, as such, but there’s a lot unspoken. You don’t know Elsa, and she doesn’t know you. Having lunch with your boss is weird enough, but when your boss is the chief executive officer of a multi-million dollar corporation, it’s a little more terrifying.

“What does Arendelle Enterprises do?” you ask. The internet, when you had a look after being told of the job, was unexpectedly unhelpful, and you never bother to actually read what you’re filing. That would take too long. It’s more a case of 'it starts with the letter A, go here’, et cetera.

Elsa sighs. “We started out as an accounting firm. My parents began the business all on their own. We’ve looked into expanding into other sectors, and I have several new programs running.”

She doesn’t seem all that interested in talking about work, though. She seems distracted, and she keeps sending you odd looks.

“Are you… sure you’re okay, Anna?” she asks softly. “If someone has said something, or you feel uncomfortable at all here, please let us know. We- I want this place to be a safe space.”

You look at her, eyes furrowed. “I’m not being, like, _bullied_  or anything,” you say. “Can’t a girl just have an off-day without people panicking?”

Elsa gives a faint smile. “Off-days don’t suit you,” she says, but you can’t help the frown. She’s- that’s a compliment, usually, you think, but right now, it only annoys you.

But you don’t want to bring Elsa down. She’s taken you out to lunch because she wanted to make up for her behaviour.

And she has, in part. You want her to stop asking if you’re okay, but if this is… this is friends, yeah? Or at least, a friend _ly_  relationship. Acquaintances, at the very least. Elsa… Elsa seems approachable. You don’t really want to burden her with your own problems (you have way too many to count, anyway) so you just shrug and smile.

Elsa asks, when you’re back at the office, if you wanted to get lunch again with her next week, too.


	10. Chapter 10

When you come into work the next day, there’s a new guy at reception. He’s got absolutely  _luxurious_  hair, all soft and smooth and wavy. He smiles at you, and you feel a fluttering when he throws in a wink. You bite your lip and can’t keep the dazed grin from your face, all the way up to the top floor.

“What’s got you so happy?” Olaf asks when he sees you, and you shrug. You’re not gonna tell him that a smile made your day, and like always, he doesn’t push.

Elsa isn’t there for lunch today, and you’re equal parts happy and sad. Happy because you don’t know how you survived the first day of poor conversation, let alone another, and sad because you want another chance anyway. You find out from her personal assistant that she’s gone until the end of the week on a conference, and then is taking a few days personal leave. You thank her, and leave.

The next couple of days are so boring, you don’t even know what to do with yourself. There’s no more filing to be done because it’s being outsourced to another company – or, maybe it’s one of Elsa’s offspring businesses. Either way, you don’t have to do it anymore. You fight down the fear that builds in your chest because… if there’s nothing for you to do, why are you still here? Every email you get sits in your inbox for a good twenty minutes before you can build up the strength to open it. You knew the job couldn’t last long, but this still hurts.

But, no sacking, or outsourcing, or downsizing ever comes. You don’t want to rock the boat at all, but you’ve only been here like, three months. You use your computer to browse other jobs, and you prepare an email that you’ll send if and when they finally cut you loose.

The day before Elsa’s due to return, you finish late. There’s a few factors – like the overtime pay that will help when you inevitably find yourself unemployed again, and the fact that the lift broke down and, while it didn’t take long to fix, there is still an awful smell – but really, you just don’t wanna go home. You remember Elsa’s offer for lunch, and with a sinking heart, guess that she’s probably going to break it over lunch. A nice lunch with a glass of wine that will probably ruin every other nice lunches with wine you’ll ever have again.

It’s past six when you decide to pack up and leave. Everyone else clocks off at five, so at lease there’ll be no crowds. Hopefully, the bus will be empty, too. You’re almost to the lift when you hear something. Or feel it, you aren’t sure. It’s the vibrations of a raised voice, and, curious, you turn to follow it.

Olaf is sitting at his desk, head in his hands. He must have his phone on speaker, because it’s either that or he’s talking to himself. He doesn’t notice you come in, and you sit there awkwardly as he keeps talking.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you recognise the voice on the other end of the line as Elsa’s.

“ _Thank you, Olaf_ ,” she says, before ending the call. He huffs, but doesn’t look up until you clear your throat.

“Everything okay, Olaf?” you ask softly. He jumps at your voice, and gives a wry smile.

“Not really,” he says, shrugging. “We’ve just hit a snag. I’m sure it’ll all work out, though.”

You nod contemplatively. “Anything I can do to help?”

At that, his smile turns a little more sincere. “It’s not even that terrible,” he begins. “Elsa’s PA forgot about the change in schedule that meant Elsa would have to catch a later flight. Now she’s stuck at an airport in the middle of the night, and everywhere else seems full. She’s going to be stuck until at _least_ tomorrow afternoon.”

You frown at the news. “Why didn’t her PA book another flight?” you ask. Olaf shrugs.

“I don’t know, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. The best we could do is try to find her a place to stay for the night.”

You frown at that thought. Elsa’s been away from home for a week already, and it’s not fair that she has to stay that way because of a mistake someone else made.

“You said there were no flights for here, right?” you ask, and he nods. “Well, what if we don’t bring her here?” Olaf looks at you blankly, and you sigh. “What airport does she normally use? Corona? What if we found her a flight to- well, Weselton is only a couple of hours drive away. What if she could catch a flight there, and someone picks her up? Or even South Isles isn’t too much further. It may take a little longer, but it’s better than being stuck somewhere else all night.”

Olaf looks at you, eyes wide and face blank. Without shifting his gaze, he picks up the phone and presses a button.

“ _Yes?_ ” Elsa picks up on the second ring, and Olaf still hasn’t looked away.

“Hey, Els,” he says. “We may have an idea…”


	11. Chapter 11

When you come into work the next day, you actually feel pretty good. Olaf had texted you in the wee hours of the morning, telling her that they’d been successful – and Elsa was immensely grateful. Maybe you _do_  have a future here.

Olaf actually told you to have a sleep in, so you don’t get to work until about morning-tea time. You smile at the guy behind the counter, and his answering grin is enough to send those tremors fluttering in your chest again. You look away bashfully, biting your lip. Apparently- well, you’ve read books on dating and flirting, so. Maybe it’ll work?

You push it from your mind as you ride the elevator up, and the thought actually completely vanishes because you can’t see anyone. As in, there’s no sound or movement, or anything that would indicate that the floor was habited at all.

There’s a post-it note on your door, asking you to come down to conference room B at 12:30. You frown at it, curious, but for the first time, you’re not actually worried. You send a brief text to Olaf, but that’s just so you can find out where everyone’s gone. He doesn’t get back to you by the time you have to go to the conference room, and you pick up the post-it, looking for a clue.

It isn’t his handwriting. He’s too scratchy when he writes, all harsh lines and jagged edges. This handwriting reminds you of Elsa’s, which of course only makes you more confused. Gripping it tight, you make your way to the room.

It, unlike the floor your office is on, most definitely _isn’t_  empty. When you knock, Elsa looks up from a spread of documents and flashes a smile. Olaf is sitting off to the side., deep in conversation. He stops when you enter, the same sort of smile on his face.

Elsa stands up, but doesn’t approach you. She’s dressed in an outfit that would look out of place if anyone else were wearing it, but she’s just so good at making the mundane exciting (and you only stop to ponder what that means to you for a second). Instead of a blouse and pencil skirt, like last time, she’s wearing a pale blue shirt with spaghetti strap sleeves that just seems to float over her body, and long, tight jeans. They’re not _skinny_  jeans – they’re like, appropriate-for-work jeans. She just wears them really well.

All this assessment has only taken the span of time for Olaf to get to his feet and cross the room, which you’re oddly pleased about because it means that you don’t miss out on anything he says when he arrives.

“Anna,” he says, grinning like a school kid. “How are you?”

“Uh, I’m good,” you say, confused. “How uh, how was everything?”

At the question, Olaf positively _beams_. “Fantastic, thanks to you.”

You fight back a blush at the praise. “I was just doing my job,” you say modestly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of your neck. Olaf nods his head emphatically at the words.

“Exactly!” There’s an almost manic look in his eyes (though it might be your imagination) as he beckons you over to where Elsa is still standing. She’s crossed between ‘stock-still’ and 'completely rigid’, and her hands are clasped in front of her. She’s had a manicure, you note idly.

There are deep bruises below her eyes, and her blinks are incredibly slow. Even her smile, when she forces it to her face, looks exhausted.

“Anna,” she says by way of greeting before sitting down. There’s a chair to her right, where Olaf was sitting, and an empty spot to her left. She makes a little motion, and you park yourself there, wondering what’s happening.

But no one speaks. Olaf is looking at Elsa, and she’s looking back to him, eyes wide. They’re talking with their eyes, and you can’t say you don’t feel uncomfortable. Just when you’re about to speak up, it seems like Elsa loses because she turns to you.

“Anna,” she begins, in a tone of voice that has your heart clenching, and not in a good way. “There is some… bad news.” You don’t say anything at her words, but it’s becoming more and more difficult for you to look at her. A ringing starts in your ears, which only becomes worse the longer she speaks.

“…Being outsourced, so your job doesn’t-”

Your chest tightens at the words, so much so that you almost miss the next ones:

“…Pack your things…”

You have to blink heavily to fight back the growing tears. Your whole body is taut and tight, and if possible the pressure over your heat increases. The only way you get yourself to look at Elsa is because she’s stopped talking. It doesn’t matter. You can barely see her from the tears, but you’re determined not to show her that.

She finishes speaking, and you nod your head. There’s a smile that’s probably supposed to be comforting on her face, but it doesn’t really help.

You clear your throat, and you know that it’s pretty obvious you’re tearing up, but you still refuse to admit it. “Th-thank you for the opportunity to work here,” you say softly. You force out a smile, and Elsa returns it. You’re not sure how to leave the table with any semblance of dignity, so you don’t even try. “I’ll just, uh, get my stuff,” you hear yourself saying.

You’re grateful the elevator is empty as you ride it up to the top floor. You don’t cry as you pack away your things. There aren’t that many, anyway. A few pens and desk decorations. You leave the plant and the picture, because really, they’re Elsa’s, and the last thing you pack is the photograph.

No one looks at you as you leave. Not even the guy who smiles at you. When you get home, you put your stuff by the door and just sit there, body numb. Joan mewls at your feet, and snuggles into your lap when you pick her up. You smile at her for a moment, before the tears slowly begin to dribble over your cheeks, picking up speed and intensity until your face is red and your eyes sting, and you don’t even care anymore.

You were right: you said it wouldn’t last, and it hasn’t. You told yourself not to get too hopeful or excited. You _knew_  this would happen.

It doesn’t help, that thought, and you don’t try to stop crying.

There’s just no point.


	12. Chapter 12

You don’t have the willpower to contact the Disability Services. You have money saved away, so right now, all you want to do is absolutely nothing, snuggled with Joan.

Kristoff comes calling twice, and that’s only because you haven’t been picking up the phone. You manage to send him away the first time, but the second, he refuses to leave. He even sits outside your door for half an hour until you decide to let him in.

He doesn’t even say anything, which is what you thought he’d do. He comes in and makes a sandwich for both of you, and then cleans up the whole kitchen. You have been neglecting the cleaning, and you know you should feel a little bad about the state of the apartment, but you don’t. Kristoff doesn’t judge you. You move to the couch and you don’t talk as he puts on every Marvel film you own. You ask if he has work, but he doesn’t really answer. He says, “You’re more important,” and it just makes you feel worse, because you know you’re really not.

With no one but Kristoff to talk to, your phone is forgotten beneath magazines and books, strewn across your coffee table. You only really used it for work, and now that’s finished, you don’t have a need for it.

You try not to dwell on that thought, because it just makes you sad.

As if that isn’t bad enough, three days into your new-found unemployment, you get your period. You thought you’d been dealing with everything, but the surge of hormones makes it even harder. You’re achy and tired, and it’s times like these that you just want a hug. Kristoff is good, but he’s got his own life. You can’t call him up every time you feel a little down because it doesn’t work like that.

It’s a Thursday when you get a strange visitor. Thursday afternoon, more accurately. You’ve done nothing but lie around and watch Netflix all day, and it shows. You have your comfy track-pants on because they’re comfy and you don’t wanna get blood on any of your nicer clothes. The weather is cooling down, so you have a thin sweater on. You aren’t wearing a bra, and you haven’t bothered to do your hair. You regret that decision as soon as you open the door.

Elsa.


	13. Chapter 13

Elsa is standing on the threshold, looking at her hand. There’s a scrap of paper there, with a number you recognise as your apartment’s. As soon as she hears the door open, she jerks her head up, then down again when she realises you’re not exactly her height.

“Anna!” she says, voice lilting as though she’s surprised to see you. “Uh, may I come in?”

Your heart lurches at the sound of her voice, and wordlessly, you nod, backing up so she can slide inside.

When you close the door, you realise just how dark the apartment is; you regret opening the blinds, however, when it becomes apparent just how filthy the place is, too. You never get guests, so you hadn’t been bothered to clean up. You feel… embarrassed. You don’t like it.

No wonder Elsa fired you. You can’t even keep your personal life together, let alone a professional one.

“So…” you begin weakly. “Coffee?”

You don’t even wait for her response before you’re heading towards the kitchen. You hear her follow you, and send Kristoff a silent ‘thank you’ that he cleaned the kitchen.

Elsa stands awkwardly off to the side. Once again, she’s in everyday clothes, and once again, they look awesome. She’s wearing a loose-fitting tee with a print of a llama on it, and her hair is up in a ponytail. She’s got purple eyeshadow on, and soft pink lipstick. You glance down at your own dingy tracky-dacks, and manage to catch sight of a new stain on your shirt. Great.

She takes her coffee black, with one sugar (of course she does), and you make your way to the lounge room when you’ve finished adding several spoonfuls of sugar. Elsa sits precariously on the edge of the single chair, and you move to the sofa, back straight. You like to think that it gives you an air of comfortable confidence, but Elsa doesn’t even look at you as you move.

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you ask, taking a sip of your coffee. It burns the roof of your mouth, but at least it gives you a distraction. Elsa takes her own sip, and doesn’t look at you.

“Did… something happen?” she asks softly. When she looks at you, her eyes are wide and imploring, like she’s begging for something. You aren’t sure what. You glance away, eyes falling to Joan, who’s decided to sneak under the coffee table. She doesn’t like guests; you can see the stub of her tail flicking as she watches Elsa.

You’re silent so long, Elsa begins speaking before you’ve answered. “If anyone’s said anything…” she hedges, and you frown.

“What?” you say. Your voice is louder than you expected, and Elsa’s eyes widen. “Why is it always, 'has anyone done something’, with you?” you demand. Your bottom lip is quivering, and there’s a tightness in your throat you aren’t used to. It feels like your heart is trying to thunder its way from your chest. All the while, Elsa just sits there, gaping.

“You always wanna know if I’m being- being _bullied_  or _harassed_ ,” you continue, “but you- you let me get happy, and then nothing. You gave me an office and you made me feel like I was safe there…” Your gaze has fallen to the floor, because even if you can’t see Elsa through the tears, you still don’t want to look at her. You _feel_ pathetic. She’s reduced you to tears in your own home, and you hate it. Sniffling, you wipe at your face and steel yourself. No more weakness, you think as you take a sip of your drink and force yourself to calm down.

“I get it. Life isn’t fair. But I’m so _fucking_ sick of being on the receiving end of it. So you can take your 'I’m only looking out for you’ complex and leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need it.”

In the ensuing silence, you regret having moved from your chair. You can’t get away easily, and you’re not about to struggle in front of Elsa again. It would probably set her off, and her pity is the last thing you need. You sit stoically in the silence, waiting for her to move.

When she finally does do something, it’s just to whisper out a question. “…You… left for your independence?”

You whip your head up. “Left? What-? You didn’t give me any choice,” you snarl. Joan decides to jump onto your lap, and you scratch her rump as a way of ignoring Elsa. You feel so small under her gaze.

Suddenly, the couch dips, and you find your personal space being taken up. You can’t even remember the last time someone was this close to you – and Kristoff doesn’t count.

“Anna,” she says seriously, peering at you from behind long lashes. “You thought I _fired_ you?”

Dumbly, you nod. Elsa lets out a breath. Her hand comes up. “Why would I fire you? You haven’t done anything wrong – in fact, your work ethic has been one of the best I’ve ever seen. We- we promoted you. You were happy!”

It’s your turn to gape. “Happy? I was _crying_.”

Elsa looks away, shame in her eyes. “I thought it was happiness…” she admits softly. “Why would you _think_ I’d fire you?”

“Because- because…” _Because that’s what always happens…_

You can’t bring yourself to actually say those words, though. Elsa’s looking at you with the worst expression; it’s all soft and pitying. You rub at Joan’s fur, staring at the little cat, and you’re not prepared to feel Elsa’s fingers wrap around your hand.


	14. Chapter 14

It would almost feel like a walk of shame, coming into work the following day. Elsa’s next to you, having come over to give you a lift to make up for her horrendous reading of the situation. You argue that you don’t need her help, the trains and buses work fine, but she just wants to make it up to you, so you let her.

The first thing Olaf does when he sees you, is bend down and scoop you into a hug. His arms around you feel amazing, but nowhere near as good as the knowledge that he… missed you.

Everyone else seems to ignore the little scene playing out in the middle of the foyer, but that’s okay. Over his shoulder, you see Elsa biting her lip. Beyond that, the guy who works behind the counter makes eye contact.

He looks away immediately, face reddening, and you feel a giddy flutter settle in your stomach. This is the best you’ve felt in a week, and it’s amazing.

Olaf leads you over to the front counter, Elsa following behind by several paces. “Hi there!” he says to the guy behind the counter. “Would we be able to get Anna a new tag?” he asks the guy you were smiling at. He looks at you and gives a wonky grin that you can’t help returning.

“Definitely. Follow me, please.”

Silently, you wheel behind the counter to a small room. There’s a seat off to the side, with a counter and a computer at the other end. It’s only very small, and a little hard to navigate, but you do it. It sort of reminds you of the time you went with Kristoff to the transport department so he could renew his license. The guy – and wow you really have to find out his name. Maybe handsome- no. Stop it. You just got your job back – stands back a respectful distance, but he still asks, softly, if you need any help.

It’s… nice. He didn’t presume, and he doesn’t hover. It’s refreshing. You smile at him and shake your head, and you move to the seat.

“We just need a picture for your pass,” he explains, moving behind the counter to a computer. “You’re definitely allowed to smile. Especially when you have such a pretty one.”

The smile that you end up using is probably a little too dreamy, but he doesn’t say anything, and it’s not a bad camera. You’re not that photogenic, but this is good. Gets the details without showing the pimple on your jaw, or putting too much emphasis on your freckles.

Elsa and Olaf are still waiting for you, talking in hushed tones. They straighten up when you appear, and you turn around a little in your chair.

“Thank you, uh…” you begin, and he smiles.

“Hans. And you’re welcome, Anna.”


	15. Chapter 15

They don’t take you back to your office. Olaf is practically humming with excitement when he leads you down the other end of the hallway. With a wave of his arms, he indicates a room you’ve only been in once before. It’s right next to Elsa’s office, and you just sit there and gape for a moment.

Your name is actually written on the door, and _you_  have letters after it.

_Anna Ackerman, Personal Assistant._

Okay, so, you’re a PA. And, probably, most people wouldn’t be happy about it because ‘I work under people’ is essentially the job title.

But you know this office. It’s the office of the girl – or it _was_  the office of the girl – who used to be _Elsa’s_  PA.

You turn to the blonde woman and gape. “Wha-?”

Elsa gives you a smile and an airy shrug. “We reward good people,” she says. The words are familiar, and you feel yourself tearing up. They reward good people. They rewarded _you_.

“Come on, Anna,” Olaf says, before you can get too caught up in the moment. You’re a little grateful. “Let’s get you settled in. Close your eyes!”

You do as he bids, and you hear the door open. Your chair moves subtly, and a warm breath washes over your ear. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Elsa’s voice is so _soft_ , it’s ridiculous. Swallowing, you nod your head.

“I mean, uh, no,” you almost whisper. You feel yourself being pushed forward, only a few feet.

“Ta-da!” Olaf cries. “Open your eyes!”

Slowly, smile playing on your lips, you do. The expression vanishes as you take in the room around you, and your heart seems to rise to your throat and get stuck. Blinking, you look from Olaf to the walls and floors, infinitely away that Elsa hasn’t let go of the handles of your chair, or the fact that you’re tearing up.

Olaf looks from you to Elsa, and then back to you, and through the film over your eyes, you see him make a jerky movement. She walks around and, noticing your state, almost drops to the floor. Her hand reaches out for yours, and though you notice her hesitating a moment, she eventually takes it.

“Anna?” she asks. “These- this is _happy_ , right?”

Sucking back a sniffle, you jerk your head in an emphatic nod. “It’s w- _wonderful_ ,” you whisper. And it is.

The window is even bigger than your old office, and it goes well with the increase in floor-space. You have a view of a park with a playground and a sports field, and they’d moved the desk so you can see out during the day.

The walls are a freshly-painted green, but it isn’t the dark, dull green of your previous office. It’s a light, foresty kind of colour. The feature wall is a deep purple, and it’s honestly the nicest room you’ve ever called your own. Elsa – or someone – has moved the plants, and a few other decorations have been added; there’s a vase with a flower on the desk, and a bright rug on the beigy-grey carpet. Even your desk is pretty – one of those modern ones, with the thing legs and light frame, but it doesn’t look _cheap_.

“How- when did you find time to do this?” you ask, once you’ve gained some control. Olaf shrugs his shoulders.

“When you had those few days off, we got some people in. You said green was your favourite colour.”

You nod, but your eyebrows are furrowed. “Days off?”

Here, Elsa bites her lip, catching your attention when she turns her head away – almost guiltily. “It’s uh, it’s why it took so long for us to… rectify the mistake,” she said. “We- _I_  didn’t realise anything was wrong until you didn’t show… By then, we’d gotten worried, so Olaf brought up your file, and I… dropped in for a visit.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost amazing how a small miscommunication could result in something so, well, big, but on the other hand…

They were worried. _Elsa_  was worried. And as you cast your eyes between her and Olaf and your new office, smiling, you feel your heart stutter with something you’re not really sure how to describe.

You settle on happiness. That’s close enough. Sheer, unadulterated _joy_.


	16. Chapter 16

The first day is easy. The ones that come after it…not so much. But that’s not a bad thing!

You still have to file, that’s a given, but it’s different. More personal stuff, like memos and emails sent directly to Elsa. There’s electronic filing, but then some of them need to be printed out and signed by other people.

With the new job also comes new hours. You start forty-five minutes earlier, which means you have to be up earlier to catch the bus-train-bus. It means you arrive a good half-hour before you actually start, so you always have time to grab a hot chocolate from the café across the road.

It briefly passes your mind that you should probably get Elsa something, but you aren’t sure what. You go for a vanilla latte, because everyone likes vanilla lattes. Maybe.

Elsa also expects you to sit in some of her meetings and take notes. You reply to her emails and field phone calls from the press, or other business associates. Elsa never answers the phone, and you’ve never even transferred the line to her directly. Instead, they’re logged, and you add ‘call back such-and-such’ to her schedule.

But… it’s good. It keeps you busy. And you _like_  it when Elsa smiles at you, and says you’re doing a good job. There’s a little twinge in the back of your head sometimes, makes you question just _how_  this all came about, but you ignore it with ease.

You _deserve_  this. You’re awesome, and Elsa and Olaf recognise that.

Even if you don’t actually talk to Elsa much.

Olaf pops in every few days, usually around the time you’ve paused for lunch. The café does deliveries, so you treat yourself to a sandwich and a chocolate milkshake everyday, just because. Elsa either locks herself in her office, or goes out for a half-lunch, half-business meeting. That’s okay. You usually get some more work done, anyway.

Three weeks into your new position, and it’s already the best job you’ve ever had. Elsa and Olaf are out of town on a business trip, giving you a chance to bludge. Not that you _do_ , it’s just… you _can_. If you want.

Even with the work taking up your time, it does get a little lonely. You haven’t really made many friends yet, so with Olaf and Elsa gone, you don’t have anyone to hang out with.

Kristoff is good, and he answers the phone when you ring, but he has his own job. You’re just interrupting him.

“You should come around for dinner sometime,” he says, just before he’s going to hang up. “I’ll cook stroganoff and we can catch up.”

You grin. “Sounds like fun,” you say. “Friday night?”

Plans made, you hang up and get back to work. Or, you try to, because you’re interrupted by a knock at the door before you can start. You have no idea who it might be, so you bid them enter.

Hans pokes his head around the door, and you find yourself breaking out in a smile at his appearance.

“Hans!” you cry, then, internally wincing, tone it down a bit. “How- how are you today?”

He gives a sheepish grin and fully enters. There’s a plastic bag in his hands. “I was wondering- that is, if you were amenable- and it is, after all, an appropriate time of day-” he pauses for a second, face red. You give a little giggle, and watch as he tries again.

“I uh, was just going to have a couple of sandwiches for lunch, but they got my order wrong, so they gave me a few more to make up for it. And I know that Elsa is out of town, so I thought… you might wanna have lunch with me?”

His face slowly returns to its normal colour, and his smile softens a bit just as you feel your own threatening to burst.

“I would… really like that…” you say, biting your lip.

“Wonderful,” he replies. “Great, uh, great office, by the way.”

That’s it. There’s no way you’re not smiling for the rest of the week.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long-ish chapter that lbr isn't even about anna. still one of my favourites to date tho

Kristoff is… oddly subdued when you arrive at his place that Friday. He doesn’t seem _down_  at all. Just quiet. He lets you talk, which of course means that you will, because a lot has happened. That doesn’t mean you don’t notice how he’s _not_  talking.

But he doesn’t seem to want to fill the silence, so you take over that duty. You tell him about your promotion, about your return to work and how Olaf did up your office.

“There’s this guy, too,” you say. “His name is Hans and he works at the reception. We had lunch on Tuesday…”

You trail off, not from lack of anything to say, but because you’re actually…a little embarrassed. Or, not embarrassed. Worried, perhaps, at Kristoff’s reaction. You’ve never really shared this kind of stuff before.

Mostly because you’ve never been _able_  to before.

He’s stirring the stroganoff, so he’s not really looking at you when he asks, “do you like him?” His voice is kind of flat, and it’s hard to gauge what he’s thinking.

So, you shrug, biting your lip. “He’s…really nice. And handsome. And, Kris, he approached _me_. Little ol’ me. It’s nice talking to someone who isn’t you, y'know?”

At that, Kristoff whips around, expression aghast. “Anna! Oh, I’m hurt. I thought you loved me!”

You stick your tongue out at him, grinning. “Yeah, but I can’t complain about you _to_  you, can I?”

Kristoff turns back to the dinner, shaking his head. “What about your boss? Isn’t she good to talk to?”

This time, when you shrug, it’s sort of weak. Half-hearted, maybe. “We don’t have personal conversations,” you say softly, and then leave it at that. You don’t want to talk about Elsa.

The only thing that fills the kitchen after that is the smell of dinner. You frown at the back of Kristoff’s head and resolve to get him to talk to you. You set the table and open the bottle of red you brought. Something _has_  to be wrong when Kristoff doesn’t joke whether or not you’re old enough to be drinking.

“So what’s up in your life?” you ask as dinner is served. Sitting at his seat, Kristoff raises his glass; you tap yours to his, as is customary, but don’t bother with a sip yet. He doesn’t take long to answer, but you aren’t satisfied.

“Oh, y'know, the usual. Work.”

You nod, looking at him blankly. “Mhmm, mhmm,” you say. He gives you a look, and you just stare right back. He breaks first, twirling fettuccine around his fork.

There’s silence for several seconds, and Kristoff probably only breaks it when he realises that you won’t. “So how’s that, uh, new bakery on second street?” he asks. You just raise an eyebrow, and he sighs. His fork clatters lightly against his plate, and he looks away.

“Come on, Kris,” you say softly. “What’s up?”

He actually looks a little sick, and he doesn’t answer. It can’t be from the food, because you take a bite and it’s actually really good. If your mouth is full of food, you can’t say anything stupid, too.

But then he keeps not-answering, and even _you_  can take a hint. He doesn’t wanna talk about it right now, and that’s cool. He knows you’re here for him when he’s ready.

So, you change the subject. “So, did you see that new space film?”

* * *

You settle in to watch _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_  on Kristoff’s couch. It’s much more comfortable than yours, and halfway through the movie, you find yourself dozing off to sleep against his chest. You have a little chuckle when Indy meets the hot chick of the film, mostly because she shares her name with your boss. Doctor Elsa Schneider.

The only thing that stops you from actually falling asleep is how tense Kris is. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the movie at all, and you can feel the stress in each breath he takes.

“You uh, you remember Esmeralda, right?” he asks softly, out of the blue just as Indy’s room is ransacked. He purposely keeps his eyes on the TV, which is what makes you turn your head and think hard.

Of course you remember Esme. Kristoff had only been dating her for the last three-or-so years. You’d only met her a few times, but she seemed pleasant enough. She loved dancing, and was really outspoken, and always good to talk to. The only reason you hadn’t seen her was because she spent quite a bit of time in France – something with school, and her church. You aren’t really sure.

“Is she coming home?” you ask. Kristoff gives a dry laugh, but doesn’t look at you.

“Not…not exactly. She uh… we decided to take a break.”

“Oh.”

You’re not sure what he’s angling for; Kristoff’s never been the kind of guy to fish for sympathy (even if it’s warranted). You pluck the remote and pause the movie, because this isn’t really the sort of conversation you have with distractions.

“Yeah, it uh, it wasn’t working out…”

You nod, moving your arm to wrap around his bulking shoulders. “I’m sorry, Kris,” you say softly. “I know how much she meant to you. How…how are you feeling?”

“Lousy,” he says immediately, sucking in a breath. “But not… not because of this.”

You sit up a little straighter and look at him. It’s pretty obvious he’s hedging, unwilling to talk but _wanting_  to. Grasping his hand, you squeeze it and make sure he’s looking at you. “You can tell me  _anything_ , Kristoff,” you repeat. You see him swallow several times before he opens his mouth.

“I found someone else,” he says quietly, using only a single breath to push the words out. You give a sad sort of frown.

“…What’s she like?” The question sounds really stupid, but you feel like he needs to know you don’t judge him. Love happens. It’s not as if you’ve never liked more than one person at once.

He doesn’t answer at first, and when he does, it’s so soft you don’t catch it. When you ask him to repeat himself, he swallows again and squeezes his eyes shut.

“…He…”

The breath seems to leave your body for a single moment. Kristoff’s eyes are still shut, and he’s facing his lap, ignoring your searching gaze. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and the hand that isn’t in yours is clenched against his thigh, knuckles white.

You squeeze his hand, and say, “hey,” if only to get him to look at you. When he opens his eyes, they’re red and a little watery. You rest your head on his shoulder and use both hands to play with his.

“What’s he like?”

Kristoff lets out a watery chuckle that sounds partly forced, but partly relieved. His other hand relaxes, and he lets out a deep breath that seems to release all the stress and fear he’d been holding in.

“He’s amazing…”


	18. Chapter 18

You’re only a _little_  distracted at work on Monday. Well, Elsa has to keep repeating herself, but she doesn’t ask if you’re okay. She asks if you’ve got something on your mind, which is basically the same thing, but it doesn’t _feel_ like it. That’s nice.

It’s not even that you’re thinking about a lot. You had all weekend to mull over Kristoff’s news, so while that is on your mind, it isn’t exactly taking up every inch of space. He didn’t say much more about it, really. No names or places or dates. You asked how long he’d felt like this, and he didn’t answer, except for saying, “…it was a _long distance_  relationship.”

You’d just nodded, and moved onto less sensitive topics. He’d talk to you when he was ready.

But that didn’t really help with sorting out your own thoughts, his silence, and multiple times, you find your concentration slipping. You’re not even sure what you’re thinking about, really, just that… _something_ … is on your mind.

So when Elsa asks you to lunch, saying she has some news, you can’t help the apprehensive feeling in your chest, even though you _know_  it’s stupid. You swallow and smile, and say you’d be delighted as Elsa grins and heads for the door.

She stops just before reaching the threshold and turns around.

“Anna?” she says,forcing you to look from your computer, where you’d been staring blankly as you fought down the rising panic. Her expression is relaxed, and it helps somewhat. Her next words, even more so. 

“It’s good news,” she says. “Nothing to worry about at all.”  And then she gives a soft smile and you actually believe her words. She’s… never actually given you a reason not to.

You take a cab to a different restaurant, closer to the center of the city. It’s a nice place, full of bright lights and leather booths. Elsa walks right up to the hostess and says, “Reservation for Arendelle”, like she knew you’d agree to lunch in the first place. You see her pull out a shiny credit card and hand it to the girl, but when you move to reach for your own wallet, she shoots you a glare.

“This is on me,” she says. You make to argue, but the hostess beckons you both forward, leading you to a secluded table. It’s next to a waterfall (and that’s the second one you associate with Elsa now What’s with that?), with an expensive-looking ‘reserved’ sign. Elsa slides into her seat and smiles at you. “Now, I think I’d like a glass of wine. What about you, Anna?”

You stutter a little over your answer – it’s barely afternoon! On a Monday! – but end up nodding anyway. You don’t drink often (don’t _get_  to drink often), so you just go for something light.

Food is ordered before Elsa speaks. And even then, it takes a while. She just sort of sits there, watching you. You grow uncomfortable under her gaze, but you’re not entirely sure why. It isn’t harsh, or intimidating. She’s just…watching you.

The drinks arrive, and one sip in you know you’re not going to finish the whole thing. It’s far too strong. Nice, but strong. Elsa takes a sip, then puts the glass down and starts looking at you again. Her eyes shift every so often, like she’s memorising each feature of your face before moving on, and by the time you’re gnawing at your bottom lip, her expression has softened somewhat.

With anyone else, you’d break the silence. With Elsa, you’re not sure how.

You almost bark the sigh of relief when Elsa begins to speak. And, because of that, you actually miss what she says, and have to ask her to repeat it.

“I just wanted to apologise,” she says, “I asked you months ago for another lunch, and yet haven’t had the chance to follow through.” She laughs, a self-deprecating sound that doesn’t sit well with you. She’s the boss. She’s too busy to bother with you. Even going on _one_  lunch is wonderful enough.

You rush to assure her that it’s fine, you’re not offended. “You’re a busy woman, Elsa,” you say, shrugging. “If you did things purely for my sake, I daresay we’d be in trouble.” You smile, and though it’s only tiny, Elsa smiles back. She picks up her glass and takes another swig before continuing.

“There was another reason I asked you here today, especially at such short notice.” She waits for your nod to continue. When you give it, she leans forward and fixes you with a stare. “I want you to come to Norway with me.”

You gape. You feel yourself blinking way too often, and you’re vaguely aware of the waitress arriving with your food, but your mind is still stuck processing Elsa’s words.

“Wait- wait _what_?” you say. Elsa’s lips quirk, and she tries again.

“I am going to a conference in Norway in a few weeks, and, as my PA, I want you to come with me. I only received the news yesterday, so, naturally, nothing has been booked yet. But this would be a fantastic opportunity for you. Of course, you’re free to refuse…” She looks away from you – she’s actually staring at her food when the next, mumbled words come. “…I hope you don’t, though…”

“…I can’t.”

Elsa whips her head up, hurt on her features before she schools it into mild surprise. And then you realise what you said and rush to clarify.

“I mean, I can’t refuse. How _could_ I refuse? I would love to go. I mean, I know it’s for work, but I’ve never travelled before, and while Norway wasn’t at the top of my list – I _may_  have to Google its like, location and, um, stuff – but a trip is a trip. I’ve never even been to the airport, so _yes_ , I would really love to come.”

You’re a little breathless, and more than a little embarrassed at your outburst, but the sight of Elsa’s pink ears and smile is enough to cut through the anxious beating of your heart.

You spend the rest of the lunch discussing all the various places Elsa’s been, and, really, it’s the best outcome you could have hoped for.

Not the looming trip, but _conversation_. This is the first time you’ve truly spoken to Elsa, and it makes you wonder why it’s taken as long as it has.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning that upcoming chapters (not this one) will feature somewhat graphic descriptions of bodily functions, so yeah.

There’s a ridiculous number of things you have to organise. Of course, you do have a few weeks (almost a month) before you leave, but you’ve never had to organise anything like this before.

Kristoff agrees to look after Joan, but only if you bring him back a present. He’s going to let you borrow his camera so you’re not stuck with those shitty phone-pics. You don’t even have the newest phone around, so you accept the offer gladly. You appreciate it because he’s not a cat person. Or an animal person, really.

After organising that, you need to figure out what to take with you. Clothes, obviously. You debate, briefly, about taking your brace, , but it’s been so long since you used it for any length of time. You should probably start practicing with it. Maybe surprise Elsa.

The thought has you smiling, and you don’t pack them away. You probably won’t bring them with you, but there’s always other events.

Apparently, you’re staying at a place called ‘Fredrikstad’. According to Google, it isn’t the capital city – which surprised you a bit, when you’d read that. You’d asked Elsa about it, and she’d just shrugged.

“We’ll be staying in Oslo for some time,” she said, “but the more important business is in Fredrikstad. If we have a chance, I’ll see if we can go for a day trip to Sweden.”

It had been said in such a casual manner, it was hard to absorb. Talking about crossing countries as though it were a simple hour-drive (and it was, you learnt, after fiddling around with Google Maps).

You try not to let your excitement get the better of you. There was still so much time between now and leaving, that something could go wrong. Sure, you’d been healthy for a while – no cold or infections in _months_. But then, you _would_  get them just before going on an international trip.

But then, Elsa keeps asking you questions, distracting you from worrying. Do you have an dietary considerations? Any other equipment to take through customs? Any preference in room positioning?

It’s actually only a few days after she gave you the news that you find yourself in her office, talking plans. She’s actually sitting behind her desk, pen held in her manicured hands, writing down notes. You feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s not her fault. It’s just… kinda embarrassing, telling her that you need handrails to go to the bathroom. That there needs to be a shower, with a chair (not a bath), and that the actual head has to be removable.

That you can’t get into a bed shorter than about 17 inches, and if it’s any taller than 23, you may as well just stay in your chair. Elsa nods and writes it down, and then looks at you.

“Is that from the floor to the frame, or to the top of the mattress?” she asks, and you have to blink back your surprise. One, because it seems fairly straightforward – to the top of the mattress. Two, because no one had ever bothered double-checking anyway.

“Will, uh, will flying be a problem?” you ask, once she’s finished writing down the answers to her questions. Elsa tilts her head, puzzled for a moment, and you elaborate. “Well, it’s a long flight. You know. Bathrooms and deep-vein thyroid-stuff?”

An amused grin plays on Elsa’s lips, but she’s shaking her head too soon for you too take offence. “Thrombosis? It shouldn’t be an issue. We’ll be flying business class, which will definitely have enough room to stretch our legs-”

She cuts herself off, and you can almost _see_  the cogs working in her head. You wait for the apology to come – the one she feels she has to give – but it doesn’t. Instead, she bites her lip and clears her throat.

“I’m…not sure of any specific exercises to combat DVT,” she says. “We’ll purchase some compression stockings, but it’s always something to ask your doctor.” She blinks at you for a moment, eyes never looking away. “There is an aisle chair for use on the plane, to get people from their seats and to the bathroom. Will there be any…problems?”

You know what she’s referring to, and you feel your heat beat just a little quicker. It’s not like you’ve never had to talk about these things before, but you didn’t think you’d have to tell your _boss_  about it.

“I won’t need you, or anyone else, to help,” you say, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Elsa’s eyebrows lift, hiding under her fringe as she looks at you. “I’m not worried about anything. I just want this to be as comfortable as possible for you, Anna.”

You nod your head but don’t say anything for a moment. “I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to my doctor and see what he suggests. I’ve never had to think about it before.”

Elsa gives a smile. “We have some time, so don’t feel pressured to find out,” she says.

Of course, as soon as you have a chance, you ring up to make an appointment. You’re actually late to lunch because you get stuck trying to figure out a good time. You have to take three buses and two trains to see the specialist, which is half the reason you don’t see him very often. The other half is the stupid price, but thankfully, you hadn’t had to pay for most of your life. The government, or something, had paid for all your expenses when you’d first become…confined.

Your mind is still thinking about it when you meet Hans for lunch. He’s waiting in the foyer for you, biting his lip and holding a flower. It’s actually a little wilted because he’s holding it so tight, and he stumbles through an explanation when he gives it to you. Your face heats up like a sun-lamp, and by the end of it, you’re both blushing. It’s sweet.

He takes you to a Chinese place a few blocks away. You make idle conversation about how you’d never eaten out every other day until you started working at Arendelle Enterprises. It made you good at cooking, having to do it, but not so good at choosing nice places to eat. Hans gives a little chuckle at that as you round the corner.

“I think I might have eaten a total of three home-cooked meals in my entire childhood,” he says. “I had twelve brothers – all older than me – so my mother never even tried. Too many of us, with such different tastes.”

You put on a frown, and make a little noise under your breath. “That’s a shame,” you say. “There’s honestly nothing as good as home-cooked. I make a mean tuna casserole if…” you trail off, unsure how to continue. Hans pauses as you reach the restaurant, and looks at you.

“Hmm?”

You swallow and look up at him. “If you…wanted to come around some time and try it?”


	20. Chapter 20

Hans just looks at you, open-mouthed and stunned. You feel the redness seep into your cheeks, but you can’t even move past him into the restaurant because he’s blocking the way.

You shouldn’t have opened your stupid mouth. There’s a difference between being friendly, and someone actually _liking_  you.

So you give a little cough, and rub the back of your neck. “It just doesn’t- I’d bring in some, but it doesn’t taste as good the next day, see…”

But then, amazingly, he smiles. Shakes his head in a way that you think isn’t meant for you, and rubs his chin. He doesn’t say anything, though, and you’re curious as to what’s going through his mind

“What- what is it?” you ask. Hans grins at you when he answers.

“I thought that the guy was supposed to ask for the first date.” He bites his lip and gives a wink, and you can’t fight the blush that crawls up your cheeks. He wanted to ask you on a date.

 _He_  wanted to ask _you_.

“Y'know, you still _can_ ,” you respond, trying to be cheeky. You have no idea if it works, but then Hans chuckles.

“How about… this?” he asks, and before you have a chance to think, he’s got the top of your hand pressed to his lips, a smile playing there. “Would you acquiesce to going on a date with me, say, now?”

You give a shy nod, and bite your lip. And maybe it’s because it’s not your first lunch with him, but the whole thing goes really well. Hans teaches you how to use chopsticks (or tries) and you snort really loudly when a noodle falls from his own and leaves a slimy trail down his shirt. The best part is, he just laughs with you.

It’s by far the most relaxed lunch you’ve had in a while, and certainly the most relaxed date.

 _Date_.

He kisses your hand once more when you part ways in the foyer. You sort of want him to kiss your cheek (but you don’t really want your first kiss to be in the middle of work), but it’s still so new. And exciting.

You wheel yourself over to the elevator, and don’t even realise that Elsa steps in beside you until she gives a little cough.

“Nice lunch?” she asks. You jump in your chair, not expecting the question. She’s looking at you, expression unreadable. She looks… well, she looks a little annoyed. You bite your lip because you’re probably late. You lost track of time, and even though it hadn’t happened before, Elsa could most certainly make sure it didn’t happen again.

You hang your head and bit your lip. “It won’t happen again,” you say softly, grateful that the elevator is empty.

“What won’t happen again?”

You don’t really want to admit to it, but it’s not like it’ll make a difference. God, if only you could stop fucking everything up. “I’ll keep a better eye on the time. Maybe if I have lunch in my office, I won’t be late again?”

You look up at Elsa, expression pleading, only to find her already looking at you, confused.

“Anna,” she begins, “I only asked because you seemed quite…content. You enjoy that young man’s company. I wasn’t being passive-aggressive. I was genuinely curious.”

You blush bright red and your eyes widen. “Oh.” There’s silence for a few seconds, save for the churning of the elevator. It shudders, and you feel your heart lurch with it, but then it comes to a stop and the doors open.

Even if you had any idea what you wanted to say, you end up waiting too long. Elsa’s halfway down the hallway before you even think to exit the lift, and then she’s in her office, door closed. You don’t really know how to take her change in mood, but at least she wasn’t upset with you.

A few hours later, you see Olaf walk past and enter Elsa’s office. He doesn’t come out for a good half-hour, and when he does, he seems far less happy than when he was when he entered. But he sees you looking and flashes you a smile. You return it, but it feels weak. He doesn’t seem to notice, and once again, you’re left wondering.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for bodily functions and stuff. another warning that there's more to come, too. we'll talk about it more in the future – esp. w/ norway trip coming up.

 

That night, most thoughts have completely vacated your mind, save for one.

You don't have a passport.

Truthfully, you're too scared to tell Elsa, too. You could very easily text her or Olaf, but something stays your hand – least of all because, despite having a work phone, you've never had to use it outside of work. She'll probably decide it isn't worth it, running around in a panic to try and get one. She'll decide you don't need to come this time – you can do all the things she said _next time_ , when you have a passport.

The thought is sad enough to make you cry as you're getting ready for bed. You've had your shower and you've gone to the bathroom, but you just kind of sit there and sob.

It's late by the time you manage to calm down and think rationally. You pull out your dreadfully ancient Netbook and wait for it to boot up before jumping onto the passports and travel website.

Apparently, you can get a passport within a few working days, provided it's lodged correctly. You just need to pay an extra fee. That's okay. You can pay it – actually, shouldn't you be paying for your whole passport?

Because, like, yeah, now you have actual money. But a lot of it goes to savings accounts that you don't have permission to touch. Emergency medical funds and 'rainy day' accounts. You probably won't be able to go out for lunch for a while, but that's okay. You can make some of your signature sandwiches and share them.

You shut the computer down, feeling the tension draining away at the same time. You can almost imagine Elsa's smile when you tell her your plan.

That's how you fall asleep.

* * *

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night. You're absolutely drenched in sweat, and your heart seems to be beating a thousand miles an hour, for absolutely no discernible reason. The flashing red numbers of your clock tell you that there's at least another four hours of sleep to gain, but you're actually feeling quite awake.

Joan is sleeping on your chair, and she's not very happy when you kick her off. May as well go to the bathroom while you're awake. You don't have a night-time schedule, mostly because you generally sleep all the way through. The streetlights filter through your windows, lighting the way to the bathroom. You have to prepare yourself before you turn the light on, because you know how bright it is.

You pull out a little bag from the drawer before washing your hands. You'll have to get more catheters before you go away – maybe a foley bag for the flight? Something to ask the doctor.

You lay everything out on the bench and shift to the toilet. You'd had to have the bathroom remodelled when you first bought the apartment because it was…not appropriate for your needs. But now there are bars and stools and it's all very convenient.

Grabbing a baby wipe, you clean yourself. Your heart gives a little lurch as the material slides easily, and suddenly your strange awakening makes sense.

Oh. _Ohh…_

You had a _dream_.

Biting your lip, you dispose of the wipe and prepare the catheter. You can think about it later (and oh boy will you think about it later). But it's really not good to be distracted while doing this. You've been tract-infection-free for almost four months, and you don't wanna break that record.

Adding the lubricant to one end, you place the other one into the bowel. You used to hate this part, but it got easier – and when you have to do it four times a day, you get pretty good, pretty quick.

Gently, you use a finger to find the urethra. The catheter slides in easily for the first few inches, but as always, there's a fight to get it into your bladder. But, eventually it goes in, and all you have to do is sit there. Wiggle it occasionally. This is the best bit because it isn't actually work.

The cath goes into the bin when you've finished with it. You've thought about getting reusable ones, but they never seemed to clean properly. You were on antibiotics for _weeks_ the last time you tried. Never again.

You wash your hans and wipe yourself again, and by the time you get back to your bed, you feel like you could have just stayed there and fallen back asleep. Joan has taken up residence on your pillow, but she isn't quite as grumpy. She snuggles you for a few seconds before buggering off, but it still brings a smile to your face.

You spend the next few minutes of wakefulness praying that you'll return to the same dream you left.


	22. Chapter 22

Elsa calls you to her office the next day. You've barely turned on your computer before you get a message alert through the office IM network.

_Please pop in at your earliest convenience._

Of course Elsa would say something like that, you think as you roll yourself down the hall. You remind yourself not to forget about the passport issue, while simultaneously hoping she feels better.

Oh, that's right. She was acting weird.

...Maybe today isn't the best day to bring up a problem.

As soon as you enter, Elsa shoots you a mega-watt smile that she immediately tries to fight back, with little success, and you think that maybe it was just your imagination.

"Hey," you say as you park your chair in front of her desk. "You, uh, wanted to see me?"

She nods, ponytailed hair swishing against her neck. It looks really nice when paired with the modest necklace and earrings – white gold, maybe. She's wearing a grey business dress, and for the first time, you wonder how old she is. She can't be that much older than yourself, but she just seems so... grown up. Her 'adultness' is definitely different to yours. More sophisticated.

But hey, your trousers are comfy and they cover your knees (which aren't very attractive) so you don't mind.

Elsa moves forward and stands right in front of you. Her hand hovers in the space between the two of you, but it doesn't stay there long before she's running her thumb over her fingers and withdrawing it.

"Anna," she says softly, mouth rolling over the word in a way you can't describe. "We have some business downtown. The driver will be meeting us outside in the foyer in half an hour, if there's anything you need to settle before then."

She has this weird way of talking, you muse, because it's all stiff and professional, but there's always a warmth in her voice and eyes, and a smile on her face, just for you. Her eyes don't even flicker to your chair anymore.

"Uh, sure," you say, confused. What are you doing downtown?

You wait patiently for her to say something else, maybe explain the unexpected excursion, but she seems lost in thought. When she catches herself, it's with a small jerk, and you wonder what's going through her head.

As quick as she first stood up to greet you, she steps back and takes a seat behind her desk. "It's in regards to our trip," she says after a few moments. "We need to get you a warm jacket and some stockings, for starters." She gives a wry smile and looks away.

That answer only leaves you more confused, however. Surely you'd be able to buy your own? If it's something to do with the company paying for it, well, receipts are a thing. Not only have you been given permission by the boss to play hooky and go shopping, but she's coming with you. It's all absurd.

And, isn't it summer in Norway, too? It's already mid-June. Surely Norway isn't too much colder than New York?

When you voice that, Elsa gives you a look and laughs, but just like last time, you don't feel like she's laughing _at_ you. It's more like... you've made a joke she found funny.

Shaking her head, eyes still twinkling with mirth, she replies. "Well, the highest temperature in Oslo is about the same as the coldest temperature here this time of year."

You nod, and then bite your lip. She's planned all this, just for your.

"There's, um, a small... hiccough..." you say. Elsa cocks her head, and you continue in a rush. "I don't have a passport..."

"Oh." She says, and you wilt a little at the disappointment in her voice. But then she perks up again, smiling at you. "Well, we'll just have to grab the forms while we're out. We should be able to get the photos done today, too."

That was... easier than you expected, and you make your way back to your office in a bit of a daze. You're so deep in thought that you don't hear the knock on the door. It's only when Hans steps into the room that you notice him.

It actually hurts to turn down his offer of lunch. You have no idea when you're going to finish this little trip with Elsa. He deflates a little, before he's back to smiling, and wondering about tomorrow.

Of course, you agree.

He stays and chats for a while, until Elsa pops her head around the door and tells you that the driver is waiting for you. And even then, he accompanies you down to the lobby – it is, after all, where he works. You're just about to follow Elsa out the front door when he touches your wrist.

"Hey, could I uh... get your phone number?"

Silently, you nod. You write it on his hand, because you don't have any paper and you want to be cute, and the red flush that rises to his cheeks is adorable. Elsa's waiting patiently by the door, and you realise you're holding up pretty much everyone.

You barely buckle your seatbelt before your phone dings with a new message.

_Have fun! -Hans_


	23. Chapter 23

Contrary to what you thought would happen, you don't drive down to the post office to pick up some passport forms. Elsa keeps looking at you, but she doesn't say anything. The drive actually takes you to the other side of town, an unfamiliar shopping district appearing from between bland corporate offices and brick buildings.

Most of the shop windows are completely glass, bright candescent light shining from the beige and off-white depths, and there are trees planted in the sidewalk. It looks expensive.

Of course, that's precisely where the car stops. Elsa leaves you to do your thing as she speaks to the driver.

"He will pick up the appropriate forms from the post office, and meet us here when we've finished our business," she says, and you just nod.

The place Elsa takes you is a large, brightly lit shop, with rotating mannequins in the window. They seem to be wearing formal clothes, which you think is a little odd until you actually enter and realise it's a _tailor_.

What in the hell?

But you don't say anything as Elsa leads you through the shop. You don't say anything when she introduces you to the shortest woman you're ever seen – seriously, you think you must be taller than her. And you're in a wheelchair.

You don't say anything when you're getting measured and Elsa's choosing out fabric, and asking your opinion on colours.

You don't even say something when the woman – Edna, you think her name is – announces she has all she needs, so "just a deposit, dahling, and pick it up next week!", and Elsa takes out her wallet.

Actually, you're outside the shop, Elsa smiling to herself and wondering where you wanted to eat lunch (" _because there's a lovely little Italian restaurant down the block_ ") when you finally speak.

"Why are you doing this?"

Because this stuff doesn't happen. Your boss doesn't get you a tailor-made winter jacket for a week-and-a-bit stay in another country on business. She doesn't take you out to lunch afterward.

Why are you being given such special treatment?

Elsa flushes and looks at her shoes. She doesn't answer the question for a moment, and when she does, you're still not satisfied.

"You'll need a jacket, Anna," she says. You know that she knows that wasn't what you were asking, but you don't want to cause a scene by demanding a real answer. You can maybe keep telling yourself that it's just because Elsa is strange, but you know that excuse won't hold out forever.

She _is_ strange. But she's- this is ''hiding'' behaviour. You glare up at her for a few seconds, but her eyes are still fixed obstinately on her shoes.

Like she's a child being scolded, and she's accepted her punishment.

"I can buy my own jackets, all right?" you say. It comes out harsher than you expected, and you run a hair through your bangs. "I... appreciate all this, Elsa, I do. But you don't _need_ to."

"But I _want_ to!"

The words are out of Elsa's mouth almost before you finish your sentence, and they're left hanging in the air between the two of you. She seems like she wants to bite them back. Her eyes widen and her mouth flaps, searching for something to say.

The word, "why?", plays on your lips, but you can't bring yourself to voice it. You tighten your jaw and look away.

"I... consider you a friend, Anna," she says slowly, softly. "I... understand if the fact I am your boss gets in the way of that..." She sighs. "I understand if you don't..." She trails off, but you can still hear the unspoken words. _If you don't want to be my friend..._

Why wouldn't you want that? You can't just tell her how weird this is. You don't even know what to say. You can't even remember the last time you made a friend (and Hans is... different). This is so new and unprecedented.

But... nice. It's nice. You're not sure what her definition of 'friend' is. Different to yours because... well, you work together. Go out to lunch occasionally. But that's like, a work relationship. Acquaintances. How can you actually become friends from that when there's such distance between you anyway?

When you look at her, though, you realise you can't say any of that. There's a look in her eyes, soft and hopeful, and you don't want to be the one to snuff it out. You don't want to because you're a little selfish, too, and you want to be friends with Elsa. She's never been anything but nice and polite and _accommodating_ , and that's not something you come across much in your life.

So you offer up a shy smile and nod. "Sure, Elsa. Friends."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, but i gotta say, kristoff is like, my fave character

Of course, Kristoff doesn't react the way you want him to when you tell him. He pretty much reacts _opposite_ to how you want him to. The rest of the day had passed quite easily, and Elsa certainly seemed more sure of herself. Or, rather, her actions. She let you pay for the drinks at lunch, and you spent the whole day just... out. You got paid for not being at work and it was awesome. It was _still_ awesome, even if she took you to her favourite chocolate place and bought you some ridiculously overpriced fudge. But it's not really her fault that you didn't know how to tell her she didn't have to.

That you didn't really _want_ her to. But why rock the boat? It's all harmless, right?

The only downside was that Elsa kept you too busy to respond to the messages Hans sent, and by the time you'd gotten home, you just wanted to go to sleep. You'd forgotten how tiring shopping was, because you barely ever did it (mostly _because_ of how tiring it was).

But with two weeks left until the trip, you thought you'd better see your brother again at least once. This time, he came over to your house and you made spaghetti and meatballs. He let you talk about the day – and the week – and gush about Hans and, well.

You were happy. _Are_ happy. You think. Well, the day was a success, at any rate. And you know that Kristoff probably doesn't _mean_ to bring you down, but the point stands that he... does anyway. And it's not his fault – you were always the optimistic one – but his words do make you pause.

"So, lemme get this straight," he asks through a mouthful of pasta. He takes a sip of red wine and continues. "You got paid to go get a tailored jumper – that your boss paid for – and then you got lunch, on top of being recently promoted to her PA and getting to go to Norway with her?"

You nod. That's pretty much it.

"Doesn't that strike you as... weird?" he asks, and you frown. Not really? Why would it? When you ask him that, he seems to chew on his words for a minute before saying, "Well... what if your boss was a guy? Like, a thirty-something year old guy doing all this. _Now_ is it creepy?"

Biting you lip, your eyes widen. Of course that's creepy. And you know exactly what he's getting at but you don't want to think of that.

Now he's brought it up, it's so stupid you didn't see it before.

"Oh God," you say. "Oh _God_."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Anna," Kristoff rushes to tell you. You don't really hear him. There's a sick, sinking feeling in your stomach, and you push your plate away.

"Wh- what do I do, Kris?" you ask. "I'm- I'm going to another country with her. Alone. For a _week_. What- what if she tries something? What if- I don't want that!"

You feel his hand on yours, convincing you to look at him.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Anna," he says. "Do you want me to talk to her about it?"

Sucking in a breath, you shake your head. "I'll... I'll talk to her. Talk to Olaf – he's HR. He'll know what to do."

You finish your dinner – or what you can of it – and Kristoff doesn't hang around. He's "meeting someone", and you know it's his new beau but he doesn't say anything, so you don't say anything. He leans down and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he goes.

"Text me or call me if you need to," he says. "And let me know how everything goes."

With a final, parting hug, and a nod, he leaves.

You don't get a very good night's sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

You almost have a heart attack the next time you go into work. Elsa's waiting for you in the foyer, a grin taking up half her face.

"Anna!" she says, and it's all you can do to stop the cringe as she says your name. "How are you today?"

She almost looks like she wants to say something else, but bites her tongue at the last second.

You answer in the form of a noncommittal shrug, and try to smile at her. It seems to work, because soon she's shepherding you towards the elevator. You catch sight of Hans, offering you a little wave from behind the reception desk, and you go to wave back. The lift doors shut before you have a chance, and your heart sinks. You don't feel very good about today.

And of course, Elsa's looking at you and smiling, and you don't get angry very often but at the moment you're kind of annoyed, and a little scared because like. You've read books on things like this. _Abuse_. Kristoff made you, and your therapist made you, and your third foster mother made you, so you know all the warning signs of a not-very-good relationship.

How you missed these, you're not even sure. You make a little checklist in your head on the way up the levels, and tick them off one by one

Monopolising your time? Yeah, probably. She did spring that excursion on you. Basically made sure you didn't have time all day to message- well, Hans, but you didn't have time to talk to anyone.

Trying to make sure you 'owe' her? Well, perhaps. Elsa keeps going out of her way to do things. She could very easily say something like, "remember when I did that thing? call this a favour for me", and you'd have no choice but to do it.

Keeping an eye on you? She _did_ promote you to her PA. Doesn't that answer the question? The only thing you did for her was come up with a solution that, frankly, anyone could have in order to get her home.

Your heart is basically in your shoes by the time the elevator bell dings at your floor.

"Come on, Anna, there's something really exciting I want to show you," she says, still wearing that million-dollar grin. You can't even manage one this time, and she picks up on it straight away. You have this god-awful urge to cry, and she takes one step forward only to stop because you've moved back.

"Anna?"

Her voice is so, so soft, and she sounds so _vulnerable_ and- no! Stop it! That's just a another tick under the 'guilt trips and manipulates' box.

You swallow and shake your head. "I'm fine, just uh..." you stumble for something to say that can get you out of this. "Bathroom! Yeah, I uh, need to use the loo. I'll...meet you in your office?"

She nods and steps back, and you can feel her gaze on the back of your neck all the way down the hallway.

* * *

You actually do tear up, so when you knock on Olaf's door and he's looking over what seems to be important documents, he puts them away and invites you in.

"Anna, what's wrong?" he asks. "What happened?"

You wipe at your eyes and shake your head before saying, "It's Elsa."

And he sits right up and bites his lip. "Did she do something?"

"I don't kn- I think so," you say. You open your mouth to speak again but he interrupts you.

"Anna," he says, "are you coming to me as a friend, or as a HR rep? Because...if it's a rep, I need to document this. And no matter how small it is ,when it concerns a CEO, everything – _everything_ – is a big deal. And I'm not saying this to belittle how you feel at all. I just wanted you to be aware."

You nod and give a little sniffle. "Can I...tell you as a friend and you can tell me if I need to do it again with a rep?"

Olaf smiles. "Of course."

He's completely silent as you muddle and stumble through your thoughts. At some point he begins chewing on the end of a pencil, but he keeps looking at you and nodding whenever you pause. There's a frown on his face, but you don't know if it's thoughtful or worried.

Actually, throughout your whole story, there's only one interruption and it happens all the way at the end, just as you're searching for a way to finish. Olaf's intercom buzzes, and Anna's more than happen to let him take it.

"Hello-"

"Olaf! Have you seen Anna? She said she was going to the bathroom but it's been almost an hour and she's not there. I have no idea where she's gone – she's not in her office, and the boy at reception hasn't seen her!"

Olaf's eyes widen and he looks at you. Your hand has come up to cover your mouth and your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest because _oh god will it stop?_

He presses the button before Elsa starts speaking again. "Yeah, she's in my office at the moment. Someone's said something and she just wanted to talk about it. We've got it under control."

There's an audible sigh through the line. "Okay," she says. "I'll be in my office for when she's done."

"Got it."

Olaf takes his finger off the button and throws the soggy pencil in the bin. "Do you want to know what I think?" he says softly, and you can't even speak, can only nod. "I've known Elsa for a long time," he begins. "And in all that time, I've never seen her make friends. Or try. Or take an interest in anyone."

"But-" you start, but he sucks in his own breath and you cut yourself off.

"I'm not saying that her actions are excusable. I'm not saying that you shouldn't feel how you do about it. I'm saying that...well, she's shit with people. Like, really shit. I don't think she means to be as...confronting as she is."

He's silent, and you take your chance to talk. "But what do I _do_ , Olaf?"

There's a wry smile on his face, tinged with a little sadness, and also something you can't place.

"You talk to her. Tell her how you feel and why her actions are inappropriate. You'll see if she's aware of it or not. If she is, you can come back to me and we can lodge an official complaint. If she isn't, well, it's up to you to decide what you want to do."

You nod, and manage your first genuine smile of the day. You kind of want to hug him, but, with everything that's happened, you're not even sure if that's appropriate. So you ask.

He just gives two thumbs up. "Consent is awesome," he says, and then pulls you into a hug. It's even better than the first one he gave you at your triumphant return to work. "Go get 'em, champ," he winks, and you roll out of his office feeling ten thousand times more confident than you did rolling in.

You can do this. You got this. You're awesome.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. hopefully, getting back into the weekly updates (not that i've ever been consistent here), but ugh. school. my last exam is my birthday (yay…) so after that, more time :)

By the time you’re sitting outside Elsa’s office, all that confidence has drained to the bottom of your shoes. Maybe you should just go back to Olaf and file a complaint. That’d _definitely_ get Elsa to stop, at any rate.

But…you know you can’t because what if it’s all just a gigantic misunderstanding? Could you ruin Elsa’s career – her _life_ – because you were too scared to just talk to her?

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door. You could just wheel right in, but the longer you put this off, the better. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Elsa’s got a meeting or something. Gone to the coffee shop because you were taking too long.

You know you’re just trying to think up excuses, but they work in keeping you calm until she opens the door, and you’re kinda grateful for that.

“Anna!” There’s a smile on her face, but it doesn’t look right. It looks…odd. She steps back and lets you in, and even though you park yourself in front of her desk, she doesn’t sit on the chair behind it. “Are you okay? I didn’t want to ask again if everyone was treating you properly but I still want you to know that you can come and see me if they aren’t. Is it that young man from reception? He’s not bothering you, is he? I can always move him somewhere where you won’t interact, if it would make you feel better?”

All throughout her speech, you found yourself gripping your hands together, tighter and tighter the longer she carried on. Your chest kind of feels like it’s on fire but you don’t know why – is it anger? Are you going to cry or be sick? Well, the second one isn’t an impossibility because you don’t- who is this woman?

You shake your head minutely. “It’s not him.” Your voice is way too soft, and you’re surprised Elsa could even hear you. She leans against her desk and folds her hands across her chest.

“Oh,” she says. You look down at your legs because you can’t bear to look at her any longer, and when she speaks again, that feeling only grows. “I understand you told Olaf, Anna,” she says, “But I want you to know that you can tell me, too. I only want to help.”

You open your mouth several times, unsure what to say. It isn’t until Elsa leans forward and says softly, “Let me help you, Anna,” that you find your voice.

“It’s… you,” you say, as loud as you dare. Elsa doesn’t seem to understand at first, but then her eyes widen and her mouth goes slack.

“I’m- I’m sorry, pardon?” she asks. Your eyes are glued to your hands, clenched tightly in your lap, and you repeat yourself.

“I went to Olaf because you were- are making me uncomfortable.”

When Elsa next speaks, her words are so soft that, even in the silence of the room, it’s almost impossible to hear. “I don’t understand.”

You almost laugh because _of course_ she doesn’t understand. Why would she? But…maybe that means it wasn’t on purpose. Olaf did suggest telling her why her actions were wrong. So you take a breath and begin.

“You promoted me when I did nothing; personally came to my home to fix a mistake; invited me to a conference with you halfway around the world. You invite me to lunch and pay for things that I should be paying for. You got me a _tailored jumper_. You- you take me out and then pay me for it, but I don’t have the chance to say no in the first place…”

You chance a look at Elsa only to find her staring at you, hand over her mouth. And you don’t know how to take that because these types of people are good at acting too. She might mean it or she might not, and you have no idea because you don’t know who she is. You don’t know why she does the things she does.

But then she blinks and nods and looks away. Her hands move to wrap around her waist. “I see,” she says, voice thin. “I didn’t realise. I…apologise for my actions, and I understand if you want to…make some changes here. If you wish to work in a different department, that can be arranged – for no less pay, of course. It isn’t your fault that I make- that you feel uncomfortable here. We can- you can return to your office and make some…changes, if you want.”

And that’s a pretty obvious dismissal, so you just nod and wheel to the door. Give her a small smile when she opens it for you.

“Thank you for understanding,” you say. She just nods, and as soon as you’re out of the doorway, you hear it lock shut behind you.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to nicpie, this chapter actually exists ^^; otherwise i was quite content to not update at all because i have a really frustrating assignment due on monday

You don't see Elsa for the next couple of days. You're pretty sure she's in her office, because you hear noises sometimes when you come to deliver invoices. You never get in because the door's always locked, but when you return from lunch, the papers have gone from you desk.

And okay, it kinda hurts. You're pretty sure now that she wasn't aware of any wrongdoing. If she was, she probably would have acted differently.

You get real proof, too, a few days later. It's a Thursday, which is usually a pretty laid-back day. When you get in, there's a yellow padded envelope on your desk, except it's not addressed to you, it's addressed to Elsa. You grab it and wheel yourself down the hall, and you're more than a little surprised when you hear voices coming from behind the door. You know you shouldn't listen, but you can't say you're not curious.

As you get closer, you start to think that it's maybe an argument – which is weird because you didn't even think Elsa was capable of raising her voice. Not that it's necessarily _loud_ , but more like... forceful.

Another voice enters the fray, and it only makes you more confused because what could Elsa and Olaf be fighting about.

"This is the problem, Elsa!" he's saying. Projecting. It's definitely louder than a normal conversation. Not really _yelling_ , as such – because who's stupid enough to yell at their boss? – but it's apparent he's a bit... exasperated.

"It's not the same, I want to say—"

"—Sorry, I know. I get it, Elsa, I do, but this isn't the way to go about it."

You frown a little because you have an inkling about what the problem is. That little hunch is all but confirmed with Elsa's next words, soft and hard to hear.

"How do I say sorry, then?"

There's only one reason you can think that would bring Elsa and Olaf in a room together, talking about making an apology, and you're both nervous and a little... excited? It's not really quite how you're feeling but it'll do. You _want_ to move past this. You still- Elsa, despite making you uncomfortable, is nice. She's a nice girl, just a bit...

You shake yourself of those thoughts and turn around. It's probably better that they have no idea you heard, even if it turns out not to be about you.

* * *

You half expect Elsa to approach you during the day, but she doesn't. It makes you think that maybe you were hearing things.

After lunch, your computer dings and you jump to open the email when you see it's been sent by Elsa. As you read it, your heart falls a little because it's not an invitation to a meeting, or asking you to come to her office. It's an email that's been sent to everyone, it seems, telling them of a compulsory seminar the following day. The topic, however, piques your interest.

It's on communication.

You don't mind – it's during work hours and you can't not go, so it means you'll be getting paid for essentially doing nothing. And... maybe Elsa will be there.

You try to get to work early the next day. Not like you're not going to find a seat or anything, but still.

Hans meets you in the foyer, smiling. You like his smile, and even better, it's directed at you. He has this way of making you blush, and today is no exception.

Apparently (and you're not even surprised) the building has its very own auditorium, mostly for events like these. Hans leads the way because you've never been, and it makes you simultaneously happy and a little ill when you realise that there seem to be some new refurbishments – a little wheelchair elevator to get to the stage, ramps. There's even a spot down the front where it's pretty obvious chairs used to be, but now they've been removed.

Hans grabs a loose chair nearby and puts it in that section before taking a seat.

"Uh, you don't mind, do you?" he asks, and you quickly shake your head. Absolutely you don't mind. You'd mind more if he decided to sit elsewhere (and hush Anna there's no need to be clingy).

So you wheel right over and plants yourself next to him, before taking a moment to turn around to see the crowd.

Despite your attempt to be early, the buses and trains keep to their own schedule, not yours, and you're really only about twenty minutes earlier than normal. The other seats have mostly filled, and the room is humming with the warm hubbub of hundreds of voices, but that's not what catches your attention.

Elsa's taken a seat about halfway up, and closer to the other side of the room. You watches as someone close to her jumps up to greet a friend, and when they sit back down it's a good two rows away from where she'd been sitting originally.

It doesn't seem like Elsa's noticed you watching, either, because she's staring at her lap. The auditorium fills around her, but no one tries to sit near her. One guy has to slide past her, and you watch as Elsa's mouth moves, saying something. Trying to, really, because it falls on deaf ears as he completely ignores her.

You're about to move forward to wave at her, maybe convince her to sit near you because this is honestly painful to watch, when Olaf gets up on the stage.

"Good morning, everyone," he begins, smiling. "Thank you for being here – we understand that you have a busy work schedule, and this might, to some, seem slightly out of the blue."

There are a few murmurs of agreement from the crowd, but they don't take long to quieten down. Olaf, picking up the microphone, begins to pace the stage.

"Now, when Ms Arendelle took over as CEO last year, she made a promise to make this company a better place to work. Some of you have already seen this in action – better benefits and wages, and better hours, too. But," he pauses for effect, and it seems like he's staring right at Elsa, "this is still a business. To bring those benefits, we all have to be at the top of our game. A cohesive business is a successful business, and cohesion needs communication.

"This is something that has become apparent, of late, that perhaps the word 'communication' leaves some people confused. We do, after all, manage to talk to each other during our work days – isn't that communication? So we've brought in someone just to go over the finer points. Who knows, maybe we'll learn something."

With a wink at the audience, he hands the microphone off to a squat gentlemen who really doesn't look like a master of communication. You kind of zone out because you're too busy thinking about something Olaf says. Nudging Hans, you ask him.

"Elsa's only been CEO for a year?"

He cocks his head and looks at you. "Well, yeah," he said. "Didn't you know that?"

Leaning back in your chair, you shake your head. This... changes things.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just letting y'all know that updates for all my fics may be sporadic until the end of june, after which i will be on holidays and will return to a normal update schedule. just so you know :) next chapter will hopefully be the beginning of the norway trip :)

 

You don't get a chance to talk to her during the morning tea break. You're a little surprised to find that the seminar is an all-day thing. You just happen to be in the first group. After lunch, you'll go back to your own job and the other half of the building will go through the same thing.

You keep an eye on her, but Elsa doesn't move from her seat at all during the morning tea (and, well. You can't exactly go up the stairs to chat). You don't know if she did it on purpose, but it doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t seem to care. When it ends, you plan on waiting for her, except Hans swoops you to a nice restaurant for lunch, which sounds like a much better idea than waiting for someone who doesn’t want to talk to you. You'll just...schedule a meeting with her and add it to her planner, or something.

They're led to a seat in the corner, out of the way and private, but not too far from the entrance. Hans has offered to pay, and like. He doesn't _have_ to. But he wants to, and you're pretty sure that these are actually  _dates_ now. He's never asked you on a date, not using that word, but this is a little more than a friendship thing, you think (you _hope_ ).

"Is this a date?" you blurt, just before your eyes widen and you realise exactly what you said. Hans gives an awkward little chuckle, hand coming up to rub the back of his head.

"Well, I mean," he begins, and your heart sinks a little because maybe he was just being friendly. A friend. But then he continues. "I would...really like it to be," he said, and he looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. He doesn't meet your eyes when he says, "You are...a really nice person, and I'd love to get to know you better. If- if you'd let me."

You can't stop the grin from appearing on your face. Gosh, even Hans looks bashful. You look away, and you only manage to meet his eyes when you feel a gentle pressure on your hand.

Oh god he's holding your hand.

You're powerless to stop the blush, and you don't ever want him to move it. He has to, of course, because it's hard eating one-handed (not to mention impossible to hold someone's hand while moving, in your case) but throughout it all – lunch, and the return to work – Hans has a look on his face that tells you he wants to regain contact, too.

You told him, during lunch, the issues you've had with Elsa. Not specifics, just that something happened.

"I still want to work with her," you'd said. "She's nice, if a bit... odd sometimes. But we're supposed to go to another country next week and she refuses to talk to me!"

Hans had offered a sympathetic smile, but it was his next words that were most useful. "Maybe you need to just, I dunno. March in there and tell her what's what. From the sounds of things, she's been quite...hot and cold. It's not fair on you." His face had fallen to his lap, but his eyes still flickered up to your face when he continued with a, "I don't want to be presumptuous, but I'd wager that travel isn't as easy. There are obstacles you face that I don't even think about. Especially because it'd be your first time. The earlier you know what's up, the better. I, uh, assume."

You'd nodded, not at all minding the assumption. He was right (and at least _he_ was thinking about that). You don't want to miss out on this opportunity because Elsa was being like this.

When you arrive back at work, Hans takes your hand and squeezes. "You can do it," he says softly, and then, without warning, presses his lips to your cheek. That was a date, and this was a kiss, and once again, you wish you weren't at work because you're twenty-three and this 'first kiss' business is taking its sweet time getting to you. But, now isn't the place. You just squeeze his hand back and nod.

"Thanks," you say. "I'll let you know how it goes."

You head straight for the lift, the date and the kiss giving you an extra boost of confidence. You're _going_ to sort this out.

It's the first time you've ever truly taken advantage of the 'knock and enter' policy, you think. Or, at least, the first time you've ever appreciated it. Elsa's sitting behind her desk,and when she sees you she almost jumps up. As it is, she pales a bit, and doesn't meet your eyes.

"We need to talk," you hear yourself saying. It's gotta be the success of the day (either that, or the seminar actually worked), because you're definitely way more forceful than you ever thought you could be. Elsa seems to react to it, though. She clears her throat and nods her head, and she indicates the space in front of her desk.

"What- what would you like to discuss?" she asks, and you realise that she probably thinks you're going to quit, or ask to be moved. It...seems to be the first thing she always thinks, when things go wrong. She thinks people want to leave. Huh. It's odd, and possibly something to think about, at a better time.

"You're avoiding me," you say. There's little room for discussion, but Elsa still tries. You hold her back with a mere lift of your hand. "You're avoiding me because I said something you weren't prepared to hear. I didn't expect you to react so badly, but I won't apologise for saying it. I _needed_ to say it. But," you continue, because Elsa looks decidedly unhappy and this wasn't supposed to be a bitch-out session. "But it's become obvious that my...grievances were based entirely on error and miscommunication." You smile. "You're not a bad person, not at all. You just... freaked me out a little."

You watch for several intense seconds as Elsa tries to get her bearings. She swallows thickly, but she doesn't look away.

"I... have been avoiding you..." she began softly; hesitantly, "because I didn't want to...scare you anymore than I had already done. I didn't realise how much actions came across until you mentioned it, and then I felt terrible because that is an awkward, scary place to be. I didn't want to- to pressure you into anything else..."

You let out a relieved smile because this is exactly the person you thought Elsa was. You didn't _think_ she did it on purpose, and you're mostly sure you're right, now. Your attention is drawn back to Elsa when she gives a little cough.

"I, uh, I understand if you don't want to attend this Norwegian conference anymore. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, which it might be as Olaf is unable to attend. It would be just us for over a week..."

You blink in surprise. "Of course I want to come," you say, only a little confused. "I've never been to Norway before." Plus, you have another week to repair this work relationship a little more, too.

Elsa just gapes at you for a moment – obviously not expecting you to agree. So, you shoot her another smile.

"I better get back to work," you hear yourself say. Elsa's expression falls a fraction, but she hides it away before you have a chance to comment. "I appreciate this chat," you say instead, and Elsa nods. She walks you to the door.

"I really am sorry," she says, just as you're about to leave. "For making you uncomfortable." You grin.

"I know you are, and it's why I forgive you."

This time, when you wheel yourself down the hallway, it's clear of the sound of a shutting door.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus christ this chapter did not go the way i wanted it too, but this is important stuff too. at some point, it will be used to show the differences between how elsa and hans interact with anna, which is ofc very important.
> 
> at this point, norway trip is in a constant state of 'coming up'. in-fic time, it's about a week away. irl updating time? no fucking idea. sorry. soonish, if i manage to stick to a regular updating schedule. i'm actually sick atm so i've just been sleeping a lot. also working on the last chapter of who dares wins is taking it out of me :/

It's surprising how well the rest of the week goes. Your passport comes in, and Elsa gives you a couple of days off to get everything together. You have to make a specialist appointment, but now that you have like, actual money, it's easy.

Hans offers to drive you, too. You don't know how he managed to get the day off, but maybe he works in a part of the building where it doesn't matter so much. It doesn't really matter, anyway. All that matters is that he wants to do it for you. You could have caught the train, but no. He _wanted_ to help.

He doesn't come into the doctor's room with you, which is something you're grateful for. He doesn't need to know about your bladder function or blood pressure. The doc seems pretty happy, gives you a new script for oxybutynin and warfarin. You really should get better insurance, you think, as you leave the pharmacy next door, laden with drugs but over a hundred dollars down. The price of not dying, you suppose, and it's really not that bad now you have a job. Maybe you should ask if the _company_ covers health insurance? Some of them do...

You have the rest of the day off work, as does Hans, so he drives you around this side of the city, pointing out his favourite spots. You don't really come here all that often because the public transport isn't fantastic, and you honestly have no reason to come this way except for the doctor. It's nice, seeing it through someone else's eyes. He obviously likes living here.

Turns out, when he asks if you wanna come back to his place for lunch, you may have another excuse to venture here.

Hans lives in a nice little townhouse off the main road. It's neat and quiet, with pretty brick awnings and vines crawling up the side. You point them out and he gives a sheepish sort of shrug.

"They were there when I moved in," he says. "I was gonna get rid of them, but I dunno. They add a bit of charm, dontcha think?"

You nod, and bite your lip to stop from saying something cheesy like, "Not as charming as you," as he leads you inside. Or tries to. There's a bit of a difficulty because like.

Stairs.

They're not big, only three or four, but they're still there. Of course his house has stairs. You hear Hans swear under his breath, looking down at his shoes as he does so.

"Sorry," he says softly, and like. Maybe this is a sign or something. You don't really know what _kind_ of sign, but it's still there.

So you bite your lip in a (hopefully) cheeky way and say, "Guess you'll just have to carry me."

And wow, okay. That's a bit. Forward. But he grins at you and takes a moment to run up to unlock the front door. He's bashful, though, when he comes back to you.

"Only if you don't mind," he says, voice low and soft.

You absolutely do _not_ mind, but that's a bit much so you just say, "not at all," and lean forward.

You've never had someone carry you. At least, not since you were a teenager. It's just... not something that's done. An invasion of space and privacy and kinda makes you feel bad because yeah, that's right, you're totally disabled. You don't like relying on people for help.

But this is different. _Hans_ is different. One hand comes wraps around your back, and the other tucks under your knees as he lifts you up effortlessly. Your stomach drops for a moment – you're not used to being picked up, after all – but he puts you down as soon as you're inside. You're left alone for a minute as he retrieves your chair.

His home is small. Not like yours. Yours is cozy. It looks like he doesn't care much about sentimentality. There are no photographs, or any really personal items. There's a bill stuck to the fridge, and a mirror in the hallway. The couch is leather and the dinner table seats two people. Hans had put you down on one of them, and it's given you a pretty good view of the front living area.

It looks lonely.

You're not one to talk, and of course you don't actually mention it, but maybe he knows because he looks around sheepishly.

"I don't get many visitors," he begins. "You're, uh, you're actually the first."

You have to fight back a smile because that would be too telling. Instead, you rest your elbow on the table, and your head on your hand, the other one rubbing against a knot in the wood.

"It's a nice place," you say. "What made you decide to live here?"

He takes the seat opposite, hands coming to rest near yours. You kind of want him to take your free hand. "Well," be begins, "I moved out as soon as I could. I really wanted my own place and this one was going cheap..."

His story is so different to yours. He gets up halfway to fix a salad for lunch, but he doesn't stop talking. Growing up in a huge family, always surrounded by people. The youngest of a dozen – you think it's kind of insane. In turn, you talk about Kristoff and don't really mention your own home life. It's not that you don't want him to know. It's just... well, it's not really tentative-date material, is it? It's not something he _has_ to know.

Before either of you realise it, the sun's started setting and the streetlights have lit up. Your tummy is rumbling a little because salad isn't that filling, and you have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

Hans' house isn't really set up for this. For you. His toilet is its own room, so you can't close the door. Hans has to show you where it is, and you can see it in his face when he realises the predicament.

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," he says, and backs off. You're far enough down the hall that he isn't visible, and your chair protects you further, but it's still... uncomfortable.

When you return to the kitchen, Hans is sitting at the table, looking over take-out brochures.

"D'you wanna get dinner?" he asks, and your tummy chooses that moment to rumble again, so you can't say no.

But you do want to go home, is the thing. Hans' place is nice, but yours is comfortable. Your chair fits and all your stuff is there. The later it gets, the harder everything becomes. You don't want to show him that. Not now, not yet.

So instead you give him a look, and ask, "Why don't... we go back to mine? I did say I make a really good tuna casserole."

Hans stares at you for a minute before he breaks out in a grin. "I would... really like that," he says.

So would you.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update because i love you guys, or something. not a fan of the reviews telling me that your 'interest is waning'. just stop reading if that's the case. i did say it would be elsanna, and it will be. if you follow me on tumblr you'll see how much i hate hans, and if not, then im telling you now how much i hate him. but i wouldn't do this unless i had a reason. he has a plan, as does elsa, and anna, and even kristoff and his bf. i have plans for them all. if you trust me, i won't let you down.
> 
> which is why i have to warn you that the hanna relationship is going to get 'better' before it becomes worse. expect more development on their end. but, expect more elsanna development. think of it like this: they'll have an entire week together in norway. who knows what can happen? :P

 

Dinner was a complete success. You're much more comfortable in your own home, and it's kinda nice, showing Hans just how independent you are. You disappear into your bedroom to take your medication, and you also get changed into something... nice. Spruce up your hair a little, put on a dash of lipstick. Hans doesn't make it obvious, but you notice that his eyes stray to your lips a little more often.

Joan hides under the coffee table and glares at you, but she's really just annoyed at having a stranger in the house.

He doesn't stay too late. Helps wipe the dishes and gives you a kiss on your cheek as he leaves. And maybe it won't take too long before you actually work up the courage to kiss _him_.

It's almost 9:30, and you do actually have work in the morning. A quick shower later and you're ready for bed. Joan jumps up near your feet and gets comfortable, and even though you had a pretty big day, you seem to spend ages just staring at the ceiling. You wonder what it would be like to kiss Hans.

He'd be gentle, that's for sure. Maybe cup your cheeks and doesn't add any tongue until the third kiss. Or maybe you'd find your courage then, and _you_  initiate the French kiss. His hands would move, down past your shoulders to rest at your waist. Maybe they'd pause at your hips first, itching to move back up to your boobs.

You move your hands, just to cup them for size. Your nipples are hard, and maybe it's lucky that they're sensitive, too. Your breasts aren't particularly big, but they're nice. Well shaped. They don't really sag, which is a plus.

Biting your lip, you let one hand drift beneath the hem of your pants while the other one tugs gently at your nipple through your nightshirt. You focus on that sensation because it's the most powerful, but it doesn't mean you ignore your other hand. Palm pressing down on your clit, you insert a finger and swirl it around a little. Get a movement going, and then turn your focus back to your breast.

The fabric of your shirt feels good, and you bite your lip as you fantasise about someone else's. Fantasise about a body next to you – it's not your hands, and it makes it so much more powerful. You imagine them curled up beside you, skin against smooth skin, soft fat and muscle and all for you. Lips smile against your cheek as they place open-mouthed kisses, and your hands work ever-more fervently. A weight lands on your chest as something builds, in your breast, head, navel. You imagine they've rolled atop you, lips finally finding yours as the sensation gets more powerful. Soft breasts press against your own. And then it stops. Your head feels up with a feeling of pure delight and relief, and you let out a breath. It's been... a long while since you've done that. You're actually tired now.

Wiping your hand on your pants, you turn over. Now that the feeling has worn off, you're left feeling a little dull. It's mostly in your heart because... because you're twenty-three and you really want to feel this _with someone_. Maybe you will, soon. That thought is enough to bring a little smile to your face.

It's enough to let you drift off, pleasant dreams waiting for you.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for canitellusmthin, because they just watched serenity and because i want to :P on our way to norway~

You have two days before the flight (an early Friday morning flight, _ugh_ ), and nothing to do. Which is a bit surprising, but when you ask Elsa, she just shrugs.

"We're just really on top of things," she says. Which is unhelpful because you're bordered shitless. You've actually started playing solitaire on your computer because there's actually nothing to do. If Elsa notices, she doesn't say anything.

Things with her seem to have gotten easier, too. Now you know how new she is, you wonder why you didn't notice before. She never seems to talk or interact with people, and when she does, it's sort of...stilted. Like she's not really sure _how_. Your heart goes out to her because you've been in that position, and it sucks.

Hans has no words of help, when you talk to him about it. You don't mention everything, but like. He's been at the company longer than you. Maybe he knows something.

He doesn't. He just says that Elsa's always been sort of. Reserved. Even when she worked with actual people in the company, she was quiet.

"How did she get to be CEO?" you ask, and Hans shrugs.

"Family business. Her dad started it, but he retired about three months before Elsa took over."

You ask why, but Hans doesn't have an answer for you. That's fine. The conversation moves to other things, like your upcoming trip. You're in the middle of complaining about how early it is – you have to be at the airport at like, _five am_ – when Hans gets a little frown on his face.

"How are you getting there?" he asks. "I- do the buses run that early?"

God, do you even _want_ the catch a bus that early? "I don't know. Maybe I can ask Elsa if she minds giving me a lift?" you suggest.

"Oh, well, you could," Hans hedges. "Or... I could take you?"

Wow, that's- it's not even something you'd entertained. "You sure?" you ask. "It's really early..."

You look unsure, but when Hans only smiles and nods, you let your fears fade. He ''wants'' to do this.

So, you let him.

* * *

It is _definitely_ too early when he comes to pick you up. Kristoff had been over the day before to help you pack – one suitcase full of clothes and special equipment, and a carry-on with your phone and passport. You've got a book for the flight, but you'll probably spend it sleeping if you're honest with yourself.

It's part of the reason why you decided not to sleep in your pyjamas in the first place. It meant you could pack them, and didn't have to worry about getting up early enough to change. You still take your medication, even if it's a little early, and you manage to go to the bathroom before Hans arrives.

The drive to the airport is pretty quiet. The roads are quiet, at least. Hans has the radio on – some early morning talk show mumbles through the air.

"Excited?" he asks, and god he has no idea. It's scary, of course. You'd hugged Kristoff for a solid ten minutes last night, but you know he's going to be waiting for you when you get back.

Your hand finds his, resting on the gear stick, and when he looks at you in surprise, you only smile.

"I am," you say. "I can't wait." His hand squeezes yours, and some of the fear subsides. Hans will be waiting for you, too.

Elsa's waiting out the front of the terminal. The sun is just beginning to rise, and it gives enough light to show she's smiling. Stepping forward, she helps unload your bags – takes yours, and hers, as you let Hans wheel you inside. He probably just wants an excuse to enter with you, and you certainly aren't going to complain.

Elsa leads you up to a desk, where she pulls out her passport and lets the lady behind the counter weigh the bags. You made sure your carry-on was well below the maximum size, and your passport is in a convenient side-pocket. It's all very efficient (made even more so by the lack of other passengers).

And before you know it, it's time to part ways because only people who are flying can go through customs.

Elsa goes on ahead a little while you say goodbye. She stops, not too far away, but you aren't watching her because Hans has moved in front of you. He bends down quickly to wrap you in a hug.

"Have fun," he murmurs into your ear. "Text me when you land, and take lots of pictures."

You nod, "I will," and he lifts up a little. Not too much, because the next thing you know, his lips are on your cheek.

That's the moment you decide – realise? – that you wants something else. When he parts, you follow him, but not to kiss his cheek.

His lips are even softer than you'd imagined.

It's chaste, barely a peck, but Hans looks at you like it was the last thing he'd ever expected. Maybe it was. It doesn't stop him from leaning down, kissing you back. This one is less restrained, and you feel your face grow warm. It's not like he was tonguing you in public (even though you _definitely_ felt it at least once). It was classier than that.

But then you remember that Elsa's waiting, and you let yourself break away. Hans looks just as flushed as you feel, and you clear your throat noisily.

"So, I'll uh, see you when you get back?" he offers, and all you can do is nod. You're barely able to keep the grin from overtaking your face. You don't turn around as you move to join Elsa, fully aware that if you do, he'd be able to see it. You don't want to be that obvious.

But god. Your first kiss. That was certainly something.


	32. Chapter 32

 

You're glad you're early, because the duty free shop is big and awesome and you're not big on drinking but there's a huge bottle of a type of Bacardi you never see, so you get it. You ask Elsa if it's allowed – not on the plane, but rather, allowed because this is a _work_ visit. Her expression, which had been kind of tight since you'd left Hans, relaxes, and she smiles out of the corner of her mouth.

"I won't tell if you don't," she says, and that's good enough for you.

You also buy a huge bag of chocolate because you know you're gonna get hungry and hell, it's chocolate.

Of course, after that, you're stuck waiting, Elsa having wandered off to ask someone about an aisle wheelchair on the plane.

The wait isn't too bad. There aren't that many people waiting in the same lounge, so you take the time to phone Kristoff when it's an appropriate enough time. He's always been a 'rise with the sun' kinda guy.

He answers on the third ring, obviously having just woken up. You feel a little bad, but he doesn't mind – you're going away, after all.

You've lined it up so he'll go over and feed Joan every day. You definitely feel bad about that, but Kristoff often brings dogs home from his job at the local animal shelter, and Joan isn't a particularly travel-savvy cat.

You chat for a little while, but then Kristoff has to go because he has work, and Elsa comes back. She waits patiently just out of earshot, giving you privacy to finish your call. When you do, she steps forward.

"We better make our way to the boarding lounge," she says. You nod and heft your carry-on bag onto your lap.

Elsa leads the way down echoey corridors. There are signs posted everywhere, and it really doesn't take long enough to get to departures. It's all a bit overwhelming, really. It's a lot busier here, but Elsa walks with a purposeful stride. It's sharp and quick, but even though you can't wheel as fast as she can walk, she never gets more than a half-step in front of you.

She takes you towards a service desk. There's a young lady there who must already know who Elsa is, because she gives a nod and picks up a telephone. You can't hear what she's saying because you're still too far away, and by the time you get close enough, she's finished.

"Ms Arendelle, Miss Ackerman," she says, smiling. "How are we this morning?"

Elsa offers a brief smile and a nod. "Well, thank you. Now, this is Anna's first time flying. If there is anything that could make it more comfortable for her, see to it."

The girl smiles. "Of course." She turns to you, just as someone else arrives, pushing a very thin wheelchair in front of them. "Miss Ackerman, unfortunately we can't allow your wheelchair in the cabin. For the duration of the flight there will be an attendant with a special aisle chair for your use. The utmost care will be taken with your own chair, don't worry."

Biting your lip, you nod. You don't really like this, but what can you do? Your chair won't fit in the plane. Putting your bag on the floor, you begin shifting over to the other chair. It's awkward because there are so many people around, and this chair doesn't have armrests to help you, but you manage to do it.

At least you don't have to wait around in that chair. Because of its design, you can't push yourself, but it's time to board the plane anyway, so you make your way straight there. The nice lady asks if you want the other attendant to push you, or if Elsa doesn't mind. You honestly don't care, but you figure that the attendant probably has other things to do, and you kind of get the feeling that Elsa thinks you don't trust her – not after the whole 'gift' incident. But you do trust her, so you ask if she minds pushing you. Her eyes light up a little at the prospect, and you know you've made the right choice.


	33. Chapter 33

The first thing you notice is how _fancy_ business class is. You actually feel underdressed, like you should be wearing a pantsuit or something. Elsa isn't, but that doesn't mean she doesn't look fancy. She kinda always looks dressed up.

She's really gentle, too, you notice, not pushing you too fast, and going over bumps as smoothly as possibly.

Then comes the difficult part of manoeuvring you into your seat. The airline staff can't help – some legal thing – and you don't really want Elsa to help. Like, sure, you can't walk, but you're not a complete invalid. Lucky the seats are so comfortable, though. Once you get into position, it's pretty easy to just slide into it.

It's actually soft enough that after a glass of juice – complimentary! with a rose! – you fall asleep. Only for a little nap. You stir when Elsa gets up to go to the bathroom, actually; even though the leg room is really spacious, you're not really used to people moving around you while you're sleeping. You try to stay awake because Elsa's tablet is open – she's obviously working – and this is a work trip.

Also, you were drooling.

When Elsa returns, you grill her about the plan for when you get there. You're going to be in the country for a little while – a week, planned. Which seems a little longer than necessary, but hey, paid holiday. You're not complaining.

The hostess brings you another drink (a glass of wine this time) as Elsa explains the purpose of the trip.

"Well," she begins, taking a bite out of some expensive cheese-and-cracker combo. "Arendelle Corp really is just a parent company, so we're going to be discussing a potential merger to expand our label."

You nod slowly in understanding. Or you try. "What?"

Elsa gives a little smile. "Okay, so. You know South Isles Island Resorts? We own them." Your eyes widen – that's only the most expensive hotel chain around! It's legit islands with a single resort on them for the obscenely rich to enjoy. You've had never been (naturally), but it's where you wanna go on your honeymoon, or something equally appropriate. Honestly, it'd cost more than the wedding.

As all this is going through your mind, you don't really notice Elsa lean forward, getting closer. Until she's right in front of you, of course. She's got a little grin on her face and her eyes dart around mischievously.

"Also," she whispers, "you know IKEA?" You nod as she backs away. She doesn't say anything this time, but her index finger comes up to tap her nose.

Good god. Elsa must be the richest person in the world behind that billionaire who overtook Bill Gates and J.K. Rowling.

You can't deal with this.

* * *

Luckily, you don't have to. Elsa moves on, explaining what you're actually going to be doing in Norway. From the sounds of it, Arendelle Corp wants to expand into less-upper-class experiences. Things for the average joe. Smaller hotel chains and little holidays – cruises and packages. That sort of thing. It's a good idea, too. 'From the company that owns this super duper expensive holiday you'll never go on, here comes a more affordable option that's still really good!'.

You spend the flight asking questions, though there're not all about the business. You kind of want to know more about Elsa, too. She's your boss and she's odd and powerful and you want to know more about her life.

She doesn't share much. "My mother and father came to America when I was very small. They moved back home after I had graduated after my mother's brother passed away. They wanted to be closer to family."

Family.

You kind of want to share your own life with Elsa, but she doesn't enquire and it's a bit of a downer. She asks about Kristoff, and you're confused for a moment before you remember that she has met 'that tall gentlemen who came to collect you for your birthday?'.

So you talk about him and your childhood. Elsa's interest was piqued when you mention he works with rescue animals, but you're not sure why and she doesn't comment on it.

But that conversation carries you all the way through the flight (with a brief break for an awesome greek salad and yet more alcohol). You have to go to the bathroom once – it's an eight hour flight, after all – but it's still a bit of a pain. Once again, the airplane staff can't really help, so Elsa comes too to help you into the cubicle. It's (apparently) a bit bigger than a coach cubicle, which is lucky. It's not quite as embarrassing as when you had to pee at Hans' home. It might be because Elsa's a girl, or it might just be because it's...not as uncomfortable. Who knows.

It's early morning when you arrive. Which kind of sucks because it was early morning when you left and you were on the flight for _eight hours_.

But on the upside, Norway is _amazing._

Granted, you've only explored the arrivals lounge of Oslo Lufthavn, the international airport. But it's clean and the air is crisp and smells so _different_.

"So," Elsa asks when you exit the terminal, "it's about 8am, local time. How do you feel about breakfast before heading to the hotel?"

"What did you have in mind?" you ask. "As long as it's not like. Pickled fish or whatever."

There's a little grin playing on your lips, though it drops into something closer to disbelief when Elsa says, "I don't know. How about Subway?"

"...Subway?"

She grins. "Yeah, you know. Eat fresh?"

You just stare at her. And then stare some more because _what_? "Elsa, I know this is a business trip and all, but I really don't think my first taste of Norwegian culture should be a _Subway_ of all places..."

She nods sagely. "True. Well, a café it is. Fair warning, you're still getting a sandwich." And then she's picking up the luggage and heading towards an unobtrusive van, slow enough that you can easily catch up.

You're here. You're finally here, and you're going to make the most of it. It's going to be _great_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> subway is a throwback to a convo i had with fozziewazxi (about subway, surprise surprise) and the ikea thing is a nod to texan red rose's scheherazade series (which i just finished marathoning yay it's wonderful go read it :D)


	34. Chapter 34

Elsa has fantastic taste in breakfast foods. You kind of expected her not to because when do CEOs have time for breakfast? But no, she manages to find a nice cafe that actually has amazing coffee. The waitress begins speaking in Norwegian, but switches at your lost look.

She ends up changing back because Elsa takes the lead with ordering, and she does so in what appears to be (well, to your untrained ears) fluent Norwegian. You kind of just stare at her, mouth wide, and a pretty blush coats her cheeks when she realises you're staring.

"You... speak Norwegian?"

Elsa makes a vague gesture. She doesn't say anything, but a light blush pretties her features.

"I mentioned my parents moving back home. Well... this is home."

Wow. Huh. Maybe you should have guessed that (well, if not that, then _something_ ), because now that you know, there are definite clues.

She does have a subtle accent. _Very_ subtle. The pale hair and striking complexion scream 'European model!' and you find yourself tracing her high cheekbones with your eyes.

You only notice when you catch her eye, as well, and clearing your throat, you look away.

"So, you grew up here? What was that like?" you ask, just as the waitress brings out a pot of coffee and some glasses. Elsa doesn't answer straight away. When she does, she doesn't say as much as you thought she would (or expected her to, either).

"It was... strained," she said. "My parents and I don't get along, and I left as soon as I could." She takes a sip of her coffee. "Anyway, there are much better career opportunities in America."

You don't say anything for a moment either. Earlier, it sounded like Elsa missed her parents; now, it kinda sounds like she doesn't like them. You're just a little confused.

"My dad wasn't American either," you say instead. "That whole side of my family is Welsh, actually. He even spoke the language. I used to love listening to him on the phone to his family. It would sound like he was singing." You let out a little laugh. "And when I read _Lord of the Rings_ for the first time I always imagined the Elvish sounded like Welsh. He always said he was going to teach me, but... after the accident, I didn't have the heart to learn it anymore."

Elsa doesn't say anything – in fact, her gaze is trained on her cup – and your heart drops a little because talking about your dead parents is a pretty strong moodkiller. But... it's nice to talk about it. Them. You don't have much of a chance to with anyone else.

Clearing your throat, you follow Elsa's actions and take a sip of your own coffee. The waitress returns just as you put your cup back on the table, laden with plates of sandwiches (apparently) and fruit. You give the bread a suspicious look.

"Are you sure this is a sandwich?" you ask. "Where's the other side?"

Elsa's head jerks up, and she seems relieved you've changed the topic. Which. Is a little disappointing but you can see how she'd not want to know. She gives a little smile.

"It's an open sandwich. It's not supposed to have another side."

You don't really care because sandwiches, and it actually tastes really, really nice. Maybe better than _real_ sandwiches because now you're getting all the flavour, undiluted by too many carbs.

When you finish, Elsa calls for a car to be brought around. Frederikstad is another hour's drive away – there used to be an airport, apparently, but it's closed now – and it's already mid-morning.

You're waiting on the footpath when her hand lands on your shoulder.

"I am... sorry about your parents, Anna..." she says. She's looking at you, blue eyes revealing that she does seem genuinely sorry; there's nothing empty about her words. You feel like tearing up all over again.

So you look away, though you bring a hand up to pat the back of Elsa's.

"Thank you," you say softly. You want to say something else, but you don't know what.

So, you just sit there in silence until the car comes.

Elsa's hand doesn't move the whole time.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all'y'all comments and reviews make me feel great btw. this story is (hopefully) back on track with its thursday updates – at least for the time being. I have a lot coming up with school (first assignment is due next friday OTL ) but i'll try and remain consistent :)

The drive to Fredrikstad isn't that bad. It's not too hot or cold, and the view is beautiful. There's so much green... and it actually looks pretty amazing.

That being said, by the time you get to your hotel you're really in need of a shower. It feels like the recirculated flight air is still sticking to you. You also want to send Kristoff a quick message because he's probably worrying and you wanna let him know you arrived safely.

"We won't be starting work until tomorrow," Elsa says as you follow her through the foyer, driver walking a few steps behind with your bags. The hotel seems a bit dated, but it looks clean and the staff are all smiling. "If you want to have a nap, feel free."

Wow. Now that she's suggested it, you are kinda sleepy. Maybe you should have slept more on the flight...

"What are you going to do?" you ask, just as you get to the front desk. Elsa doesn't answer for a moment – she's gotta collect room keys and stuff, you suppose – but when she does, she's got the same impish expression she had when she mentioned IKEA.

"You're not the only one who got some cheap grog," she says, and you almost feel like blushing, though you're not sure why. Gosh, does anyone over the age of 20 still even call it that? "I'm going to have a bath and a drink, and then perhaps find a good place for dinner. Do you have any preferences?"

Dumbly, you shake your head. Jesus, is this a work trip or a holiday?

You're saved the embarrassment of asking that stupid question when the receptionist moves out from behind the desk. He says something in Norwegian, and Elsa nods.

"He will show us to our rooms."

You're led out of the foyer and down a glamorous hallway. It looks really posh, but you're still kinda grateful when he bypasses the lifts. You're not sure you trust the electronics in a place this old. You stop outside an elaborate door, and with a swipe of a keycard, it unlocks.

It's a nice room. Not overly spacious, but hell, it's the fanciest hotel you've ever been in, so you're not going to complain. On your immediate right, there's a small kitchen, with a dishwasher and oven and everything! Even a regular sized fridge! Directly in front of you is the 'living room' – a small couch and TV, plus a coffee table – and to your left you can see a bedroom. The bathroom must be through there, too. The driver, who's followed you this whole way, bless, arranges your bags neatly by the couch.

"Wow, this is great," you say. "I wonder what yours looks like, Els."

You turn to her, and she gives a brief smile. "Likely the same as yours," she responds. "There's nothing stopping you from having a look."

A soft cough gets your attention, and you look to the receptionist, confused. Elsa's got a similar expression on her face.

"Apologies, madams," he says, "But we cannot permit Miss Ackerman into the elevator. Health and safety – I'm sure you understand, Ms Arendelle."

Elsa evidently does _not_ understand, judging by the narrowing of her eyes and her following words. "I'm not sure I do," she says. "We booked two rooms directly next to each other for ease of access. Why would I need to take the lift while Anna does not?"

The driver's completely vanished and you feel your heart sinking, following the way your head dips.

"That's correct, ma'm," the receptionist says. "You booked two deluxe suits; however, one other stipulation was the requirement for a disabled-access room. Unfortunately, the only disabled rooms we have are on the ground floor. Surely your booking manager told you this?"

You hear a sharp exhale. "No, they didn't."

There's silence for a few seconds, and you can feel Elsa's eyes on you. You don't want her to do anything silly, and you're _really_ desperate for a shower now, so you decide that now is the time to pipe up.

"It's fine, Elsa." You lift your head to look at her, smiling a little bit. "Don't worry. We can still reach each other through the internal phones, right?" The receptionist nods. "There. It's all fine." You almost feel like adding on an, _I don't need a babysitte_ r, but that wouldn't help anyone, and chances are Elsa had only wanted close rooms for functional reasons, not to watch over you.

She obviously looks uncomfortable, but you don't have to argue your point again for her to acquiesce. "Okay," she says. And then smiles. "Okay. I will leave you to get settled in. I'll be back in a few hours."

She still doesn't seem happy once the door has close behind her, and you're not exactly sure why.

Not that it matters at the moment – you can ask her later. Right now, there's a shower with your name on it.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is half of what i wrote – other half is coming out next week because a) it got really long and b) i have an assignment and an exam and it's only technically week two.
> 
> i dont have much time to write
> 
> hey, at least im on time...

There's a dresser for your luggage, you notice, but it's really far away and hell, it's your hotel room. So, you don't bother unpacking, instead just opening your bag out in the living room. It's not like you're gonna spend much time out here anyway.

You just reach in and get some clean underwear and a nice blouse and pants. You've got enough clothes to last a few days but you'll have to ask Elsa if there's a washing machine or something to use.

The bedroom looks gorgeous, with a spacious bed and charming decor. You can't wait to have your nap.

First things first, though.

The bathroom is a little squishy, which makes it hard to manoeuvre. It also means you don't notice the obvious problem until you're already inside.

There's no shower.

Shit.

Instead, you have this really old-fashioned bathtub – the one with clawed feet that's raised off the floor. The rim comes up to your shoulder and your heart just sinks.

When the receptionist said 'disabled-access', you assumed he meant 'able to access the amenities'.

And it's fine, you don't desperately need a shower _right now_. But you will, at some point. You won't be able to go a week without cleaning yourself.

Okay, that's a problem for later. You'll... tell Elsa when you meet up with her. You still have time for your nap, after you text Kristoff.

Everything's all good.

You get a response to your, _arrived safe! hotel looks nice but it doesn't have a shower so imma talk to elsa later_ message a few minutes after it's sent.

_stay safe! take lots of pictures! love you!_

It brings a smile to your face, so you just respond with a little love heart.

After you take your shoes off and throw them on the luggage, you return to the bedroom. You're really keen to try out this bed. You've never slept in a bed that wasn't yours, so that's exciting.

By the time you get there, though, you realise that sad fact is going to stay that way. You hadn't noticed on your way past the first time, but the luxurious bed sits almost as tall as your shoulder. There's no possible way you can get on it, and even if you could, you'd probably tip off the side when you tried to get back down again.

Well. At least the couch looks comfy, too, you think, even though your heart is sinking just a little.

But, it's only the first day. It's far too early to be disappointed. You'll feel better after a nap, no matter where it is.

* * *

The couch is not as comfortable as a bed would be. That's okay. It means you wake up as soon as Elsa knocks on the door. Means that it doesn't take as long for you to answer, either.

She's perfectly put together and you're just wearing trackpants and a loose cotton top.

"Had a nice shower?" she asks, peering into your room. "Nap comfortably?"

You bite your lip and let her into the room. You don't answer for a moment, but she notices something worth commenting on anyway.

"Is there a problem with the bed?" she asks, noticing the pillow and blanket you'd sprawled on the couch.

God, why does all the embarrassing shit happen to you?

"Not exactly," you say. Elsa looks at you expectantly, and, well. There's no sense in pussyfooting around. "I can't use it. Or the bathroom."

At that, Elsa's confused expression darkens. "Pardon?"

You give a helpless shrug. "It looks great but- remember when we were talking, earlier, and I mentioned I have trouble with tall beds?" She nods, and you gesture towards the bedroom. "And I can't use a bathtub. No way I'll get in or out..."

You wish you didn't have to cause Elsa such problems. Her whole posture just kind of slumps as she makes her way back towards the door.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper out. You wish you'd kept your mouth shut, but at the same time, you wouldn't have been able to last all week like this.

But Elsa's eyes widen and she holds her hands out. "Oh, no, Anna. Don't apologise. _I'm_ sorry. I was assured that you'd be comfortable here. This is entirely my fault – I should have double checked. I'll be back in just a moment, okay?"

Now it's your turn to be confused, but you let her go.

What's she going to do?


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starts from where the last chapter left off. sorry it's a little late: i have a surprise assessment due tomorrow --;

 

Evidently, Elsa's plan was as simple as a "go and see the receptionist". You don't wait for her to come back. Instead, you follow her from the room. She notices, and pauses just outside the lift for you to catch up.

That's nice of her.

It means even more when you realise just how upset she is, mostly because when _you're_ upset you don't want to be nice to anyone. Usually, you want to sulk. Or lash out, depending.

But here she is, smiling at you so you don't worry, and then letting her voice turn icy when she replies to the, "Ah, Ms Arendelle. How are you liking the accomodations?" question put to her.

"Lacking," she says. "My associate here, after not only being _downgraded_ in her room, has also come to realise that your so-called 'disabled-access' features are not accessible at all. Anna-" She turns to you, voice startlingly warm. "Would you like to explain the issues with the room, or are you comfortable for me to do it?"

Your eyes widen. You're not sure how to answer that – no one's ever asked.

Once more, you're struck by how nice it is of her.

"Oh, um. That's okay. I can do it," you say. Elsa nods and takes a small step back, giving you the floor. Swallowing, you turn to the receptionist. "I mean, the room looks great, but. I can't use it. The bed is too tall and I need a shower with a chair, not a bath."

"Can't your companion help you?"

What.

You're struck dumb for a second because... _what_? Of course, you've been asked these questions before. You just didn't expect it on a business trip with your boss. Even Elsa's eyes widen, obviously taken aback.

"No, I don't- I don't need help," you say when you finally regain your bearings. "I just need certain features. Any person in a wheelchair will say the same. I'm not a child."

The receptionist sighs, like _they're_ the one being put-out, and you're getting more and more uncomfortable. You can feel Elsa bristling next to you, but she isn't saying anything. She's letting you take control.

"Miss Ackerman, I'm sorry, but we don't have that many disabled-access rooms. I'm afraid you'll just have to let Ms Arendelle help you. And, surely isn't a bath better anyway? It's not like you can stand in a shower-"

"Enough."

Elsa's voice, low and dangerous, cuts through the air. She's not yelling, but it's projected loud enough that you can feel a few people turn to look.

"Now, I could have dealt with the lying because Anna said it was fine," she hisses. "I was _not_ told the rooms would be on separate floors and _I_ made the booking! I was assured that the rooms we had would be appropriate for our purpose, but apparently you can't even give your guests the most basic of respect and courtesy – which costs you nothing, may I add – and so I shouldn't be surprised that we're paying for this pathetic service. Now, you will refund the rooms and _apologise_ to Anna. And then you will read a book or watch a youtube clip on how to speak to people with some common decency, and perhaps I won't demand to talk to your manager. Are we clear?"

You release a breath you hadn't realised you were holding. The whole room is looking at you (well, at Elsa) and the poor receptionist is pale as a sheet. You'd probably feel bad if he hadn't been so rude to you.

As much as you don't like to admit it... those kinds of comments hurt. They show such a lack of understanding. And most people don't care.

But then the receptionist sniffs a little. "I'm afraid we don't do refunds-" he begins, before faltering.

It's the wrong thing to say.

You're not sure how Elsa does it because everything shifts to Norwegian and another person comes over who must be the manager. The receptionist gets an impressive scolding – he looks like he might burst into tears – and now you feel actually sorry for him. He's probably not a bad person. Just a really crummy hospitality worker.

Eventually you get the refund, which is great except it means you have to go and pack up your things again. Eh, it's not too bad. Now you're glad you didn't bother unpacking. Elsa meets you in the foyer ten minutes later, glaring darkly at the young man who is – maybe – unemployed at this point.

When you get outside, you notice the sky's darkening a little, and now you don't have a place to stay the night. Elsa sits down on a bench, presumably to wait for another driver. She just looks so _drained_.

"I'm sorry," she ends up murmuring. "God, can _nothing_ go right today?"

Your face falls a little because... is that what Elsa's thinking? That today has been terrible? Yeah, there were some elements that could have gone a little better but-

"I dunno," you say, reaching over to clasp her hand. Patting it softly, you say, "We didn't die in a thousand fiery pieces over the Atlantic. I haven't got food poisoning from that _fake sandwich_ from this morning." You smile, and it only widens when Elsa tries to return it. "And I bet there's a motel around somewhere that has a ground-floor room with a shower and a decent-sized bed." You sigh, looking away for a moment. You can see a car approaching that looks just like the one from this morning.

"Don't be sad, Elsa," you add softly as the vehicle pulls up. "I don't think today has been that bad. It's actually... been pretty all right, in my opinion."

And then you're off moving, rolling towards car with your luggage on your lap. You can hear Elsa getting to her feet behind you.

"Where to?" the driver asks once you're both settled. Elsa looks at you for a moment.

"Take us to a motel," she says. "The nicest one you know that has showers."

You can see him quirk an eye in the rearview mirror, but he says nothing but a, "Yes, m'am." You let out a little giggle.

"See? Already looking up."

All Elsa responds with is a smile.


End file.
